


Savin' Me

by montecarlogirl87



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlogirl87/pseuds/montecarlogirl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after <i>3.04 Sin City</i> -- No matter how much they want the demons vs humans thing to be black and white, it never is. Dean finds himself with an unlikely friend and connection. (ugh, omg, seriously, how do you people write good summaries?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could not get Casey out of my head, I really liked her. This story pretty much ate my brain after _3.04 Sin City_.
> 
> There was/is a soundtrack for it, here: http://loco-lobo.livejournal.com/31533.html  
> All my links are broken since Megaupload is gone, but the tracklist and lyrics excerpts are there.

“You two?” Dean asked, catching his breath.  
  
Casey couldn’t help the way her lip twitched into a smirk at the look on Dean’s face.  
  
“For centuries, we’ve been to Hell and back, literally,” her partner answered.  
  
“Leave him be,” Casey asked, placing a calming hand on his arm, knowing full well his hatred for humans.  
  
Dean’s eyes danced between the two, a sudden wash of surprise hitting him when her words rewound and played again in his head, the meaning sticking the second time around. 

He didn’t have any time to react before the pseudo-priest reached out, grabbing his neck in an iron grip and lifting him off his feet like he was a rag doll.  
  
“Don’t kill him, let’s just go!” Casey shot out, before Dean had even run out of precious oxygen. His brain momentarily ignoring her plea to focus on the need to breathe, but cataloging it nonetheless  
  
He caught her eyes, and if his throat hadn’t already been in the process of being crushed he definitely would have had to swallow past a sudden lump at the way her eyes begged him to understand. Understand that  _she_  didn’t want this.  _She_  didn’t want him grasping and gasping for life.  
  
As cocky and sarcastic as she had been the entire time he had been around her, the soft spoken “please” that fell on her demonic lover’s deaf ears had him holding her eyes more than anything else. Trying to tell her, for reasons even he couldn’t understand, that it was okay, he wasn’t blaming her for this.  
  
The gunshot startled them all, and successfully halted the sudden reverse that Dean’s mind had skidded into, trying desperately to understand the situation and why he was feeling the way he was towards her.  
  
He felt the jolt as the bullet struck the priest’s chest travel up through his arm before his grip jerked and released his throat, leaving him to collapse into a heap on the floor.  
  
Oxygen starved lungs pulled in deep gulps of air as his vision finally began to stop swimming and he focused on Sam, holding what sure as Hell looked like The Colt.  
  
A quick glance stolen over to Casey and her partner revealed what Dean would have put money on being impossible, as he watched her lover’s form flash and spark before collapsing into a plainly obvious dead body.  
  
Casey wasn’t paying attention and Dean looked back over at Sam, whose own steely eyes scared him more in that moment than any inky-black could ever do.  
  
What Dean did next, he really couldn’t explain then, and is still not sure he could explain now.  
  
He saw Sam shift, saw him take aim at Casey and all that was screaming in his mind was  _she tried to save you._  
  
“Sam, wait!”  
  
A sudden burst of adrenaline had him rolling onto his hands and knees before launching himself at his own brother.  
  
Just as his shoulder connected with Sam’s chest, his hand reaching for his brother’s arm, he felt Sam’s body jerk as the gun went off, ringing bells in Dean’s ears as they both collapsed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and curses.  
  
“What the fuck Dean!”  
  
He allowed Sam’s paw of a hand to push at his chest, rolling him over to his side and looked at where Casey was hunched over.  
  
His eyes widened as she collapsed to her knees in the middle of the seal, both hands cradled over her stomach, soaked in a wet crimson shades darker than her shirt.  
  
The bullet hadn’t hit its mark, but it had been close enough.  
  
She caught his eyes, apologizes sparking between the two for a split second before Sam grabbed a hold of Dean.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing man!” he said, reaching out to where The Colt had landed.  
  
Not being able to reach the weapon himself, Dean did the only thing he could to stop his brother from wrapping his fingers around the gun.  
  
He swung his fist into his face, watching as his brother’s eyes fluttered closed.  
  
Groaning in pain, he glanced back at Casey, laid out, unmoving, next to her lover and he closed his eyes, striking his fist against the stone floor.  
  
“Damnit!”  
  
Bobby managed to make it down the stairs a few moments later and helped Dean manhandle Sam’s unconscious form back out.  
  
Bobby saw the carnage, saw the cold glint in Dean’s eyes and could see the yellow bruise that had already started to blossom on Sam’s face…and he held his tongue.

* * *

 

“I should kick your ass.”  
  
Dean looked up to see Sam holding a washcloth full of ice on his cheek.  
  
“What the fuck were you even doing?!”  
  
“I was stopping your sudden Rambo rampage!” he roared, standing up to face Sam.  
  
“She was a  _demon!”_  
  
“Yeah, and she was possessing a  _human!_  What the Hell Sam, since when do you not care about collateral damage?!”  
  
“Since your life was at stake you asshole. In case you hadn’t noticed he was choking you to death!”  
  
“ _He, he_  was choking me to death!  _She_  wasn’t!”  
  
Something sparked behind Sam’s eyes. “What the Hell difference does that make?!”  
  
“You didn’t have to freakin’ kill her!”  
  
“Why the Hell not?!”  
  
“’Cause she was trying to help me!”  
  
Suddenly Dean’s muscles sagged as he realized what he had just shouted out in anger and the flash of  _something_  he saw cross Sam’s face.  
  
“What?!” Sam snorted, “You fucking kidding me, you actually trusted that bitch?!”  
  
Dean spun and glared at Sam in rage and defiance, stabbing a finger in his face. “And you trusting that bitch Ruby is so much different?!”  
  
Sam tensed and shuddered.  
  
“That’s different,” he hissed.  
  
“How? How Sam? Freaking enlighten me as to how that’s fucking different.”  
  
“Because she told me she could save you!”  
  
“God _damnit_  Sam!” he spun away from him, rubbing his hand over his face.  
  
“Why can’t you see she’s  _playing you_?! She knows what you want and she’s using it to get you to play into her hands!”  
  
“Well that’s a risk I’m willing to take Dean! For god's sake, you might be ready to fight and fuck and gamble your time away but I’m not damnit! Besides we have The Colt now, which  _she_  helped Bobby fix by the way, if she turns against us I’ll just kill her.”  
  
Dean’s eyes squinted. One year ago, Sam would have said “we’ll trap her and exorcise the demon, set the girl free.” Now the first thing out of his mouth was “I’ll kill her.”  
  
He snatched his leather jacket off the chair and grabbed the keys off the table.  
  
“Where are you going Dean?”  
  
“Out,  _alone_. And for the record…you shouldn’t have shot her,” he added, slamming the door on whatever Sam could have shot back.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was able to deflect and sidestep all of Sam’s attempts at talking about what happened for a week before everything came to a head.  
  
They were down in the Louisiana swamps hunting a freaking rougarou of all godforsaken things.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed, aiming his flashlight down to pull his boot out of the rank mud that had swallowed it up to his ankle.  
  
“Man,” he whined, “Ruined, these things are freaking ruined now.”

Sam had turned, aiming his own light at Dean’s predicament, trying to hide his laughter.  
  
Dean, although still pissed at the fact that his best pair of boots were now trash, was at least happy to see some semblance of normal back on Sam’s face, instead of the dark, broody, short, clipped and reserved version he had seen ever since, and a little before, Elizabethville.  
  
Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty of course, and seeing as they were in the middle of freaking nowhere, at least a mile’s hike back to the car and hunting some whacked out version of a were-alligator, they really shouldn’t have stopped. Really shouldn’t have aimed their flashlights at each other and really shouldn’t have let their guard down to take part in some joke and jibes over Dean’s ruined footwear.  
  
But that didn’t change the fact that they had.  
  
When Dean heard the deep bellow that was way too close he knew his mistake.  
  
His flashlight immediately arced over Sam’s shoulder, the light catching the creature’s eyes and flashing like the shapeshifer’s did.  
  
“Sam, watch out!” he screamed, watching as the things massive clawed freaking  _hand_ came crashing down on Sam’s shoulder knocking him to the ground.  
  
He went to run, the mud sucking his foot down deeper when he tried to push off. He stumbled, trying to desperately to catch himself and gain some ground as he watched the thing brace itself over Sam’s body.  
  
Sam was swinging wild punches, trying to aim for the thing’s eyes, untold number of news stories saying how you could get away from alligator and shark attacks by jabbing their eyes replaying in his head. Of course, it would have been a lot easier if the damn thing wasn’t snapping its freakishly huge jaws at his face.  
  
When Sam screamed out in pain as the thing managed to latch onto his arm, tossing him a few feet only to come down hard on him again Dean panicked.  
  
He had given up on trying to keep his flashlight, it had long since gotten covered in the mud and was frantically trying to keep his gun clean and take aim somehow without catching Sam in the crosshairs.  
  
He had just managed to yank his foot free with a wet pop when something went whistling past his ear only to strike with a dull thunk as the silver blade lodged itself between the rougarou’s eyes.  
  
The massive beast thrashed, its tail swinging wildly as it collapsed half on top of Sam.  
  
Almost immediately the scales and thick hide started to turn back into the skin of its human shape and Dean sat transfixed for a split second before he felt a pair of hands yank up on his arm, their superior strength snatching him out of the suction of the mud.  
  
“Casey?” he asked, eyes wide at the ghost before him.  
  
“I’ll explain later, right now you need to get Sam to a hospital,” she cut out, already making her way over to him.  
  
She hefted him up over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry as if he weighed nothing, and the sheer lack of response from Sam spurred Dean into action.  
  
Grabbing his forgotten pack he doused and salted the corpse before lighting a match and walking away, leaving it to burn and leading Casey back to where they had parked the car.

* * *

 

He hated hospitals. Had he ever mentioned that?  
  
It had taken every ounce of willpower and self control he had to not throttle the nurses when they had arrived.  
  
He eventually let them check him out, but not until he saw with his own eyes the group that had gathered around Sam.   
  
Convinced he was getting the help he needed Dean had finally let the woman treat his couple scrapes and cuts.  
  
Now he sat in a  _freaking cold_  waiting room at the end of the hall, cell phone cradled in his hands waiting until Sam got out of the operating room.  
  
The gator that had attacked them while they were squirrel hunting, Dean had surprised even himself with that lie, had done a good number on Sam’s arm, he’d be wearing a cast, again, when all was said and done.  
  
But the worst part was the blood loss. That’s what had caused him to have lost consciousness and Dean found his mind wandering to Casey again.  
  
If she hadn’t have shown up when she had he had no doubt in his mind that they both would have been dead, buried in the thick Louisiana mud.  
  
After the nurse had let him go he had returned to the car to grab a decently clean set of clothes before taking the woman’s offer up on using a shower in one of the unoccupied rooms.  
  
By the time he had come out Casey had disappeared.  
  
He had asked around, but none of the staff had apparently seen her. So he had given up for the time being and landed his ass in a chair in the waiting room.  
  
He had his elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands, fingers laced through his still damp hair when he felt her settle into the seat beside him.  
  
“Any news?”  
  
He lifted his head, glancing at the mounted TV in the corner and shook his head.  
  
“How’d you find us?” he asked, his mind finally grabbing hold of one of the dozens of questions that was swirling inside it.  
  
“I’ve been looking for you since Ohio, took me a bit, but I managed.”  
  
He stared at her in silence.  
  
“I thought you died,” he said quietly.  
  
She smirked and looked down at her hands in her lap. “Damn near did. But no. This body bled out, and that special bullet sure did a number on  _me_ , but it didn’t kill me.”  
  
“The body…”  
  
She smiled sadly, “The  _real_  Casey is dead, the only thing keeping this body alive is me. If I left, it would just collapse.”  
  
Dean reached out with tentative fingers and lifted the hem of her black shirt, seeing the still angry red wound on her stomach where the bullet had cut through, catching her eyes in confusion.  
  
“When we inhabit a body, it keeps it alive. Heart’s still running, blood’s still pumping…it’s only when we leave that it stops. So the body still heals itself just like normal, although, it can be a little faster at times.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Well…I mean, when we possess…”  
  
“Why’d you help us?” he paused, “Help me?”  
  
She paused, “Then…or now?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
“Then…because,” she paused again, “You respected me, at least a little, and you didn’t bullshit me. I don’t know…why did you stop Sam from killing me?”  
  
“Honestly…I don’t know.”  
  
“Yeah,” she said quietly.  
  
“Why now?”  
  
She huffed out a cynical laugh.  
  
“What else was I supposed to do? Levon wasn’t exaggerating, when he said we’d been to Hell and back together. I’d been with him for centuries. And after you killed Azazel he was the only one of us I had any loyalty too.  
  
“But he’s gone, and it’s not like I could stay in Elizabethtown, at Trotter’s. I am nothing if I’m not loyal Dean. And after what you did, trying to save  _me_. My allegiance lies with you now.”  
  
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he scoffed, getting up to walk in a small circle.  
  
“What else do I have Dean?”  
  
His eyes shot back to her.  
  
“I helped you save Sam. I’m here now, I’m not running. You could exorcise me right now. Or I could tear you apart without even touching you…but I’m not, doesn’t that tell you something?”  
  
“Do you even have any idea what you’re saying?” he asked quietly, sitting back down next to her.  
  
“I have a pretty good idea.”  
  
“You’d be fighting against your own kind, fighting  _for_  the enemy.”  
  
“I know Dean, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. Demons, we’re hardwired for death and destruction; it would be like trying to turn a wolf into a vegetarian. But I  _will_ follow you.”  
  
Dean snorted at the simile.  
  
“And I don’t blame you for not wanting to trust me. But…I have nothing else to fight for, no where else to go,” she sighed. “I want you to teach me, show me why you fight,” she whispered.  
  
He held her eyes, “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to trust you…”  
  
She ran her lip through her teeth and looked down.  
  
“But I do.”  
  
Her eyes shot back to his.


	3. Chapter 3

It had almost been an hour and Dean was contemplating how many bullets it would take to successfully obliterate all the fake plants and centerpieces they had scattered across the waiting room.  
  
If he stood over in that corner, he could line up a shot and take out two, but that didn’t mean they’d be completely destroyed…  
  
The sudden touch on his shoulder caused him to jerk, muscles going tense before he shot a look at Casey, whose hand refused to move.  
  
He rolled his shoulder, trying to shrug off her hand only to have it knead into the tight muscle, and unwillingly his eyes fluttered closed at how good it felt.

“I’m not gonna tell you to calm down, I ain’t that stupid, but I can practically  _feel_  how tense you are,” she said, manhandling him sideways in his chair until she could reach his whole back.  
  
His head sagged forward as she started at his neck, working her way across his shoulders.  
  
Her knuckles rolled across his backbone, right between his shoulder blades when she spoke.  
  
“You don’t deserve it.”  
  
Dean’s eyes popped open, locking onto pink and teal nondescript painting that hung on the wall opposite from him, his head rocking with her ministrations.  
  
“I’ve been there,” she inhaled, “In Hell…you don’t deserve that.”  
  
He stayed silent, at a loss for words.  
  
“I will follow you Dean,” she said softly, recalling their earlier conversation. “When the fat lady sings and the curtains go down, if there’s no exit for this show…I’ll follow you. I’m not going to be much help, everyone down there’s gonna wanna piece of you. But I’m high enough on the food chain that I can stop some, fight the others, keep them away from you as long as I can.”  
  
He couldn’t feel her hands anymore, his whole body going numb in an instant, still rocking softly with her movements.  
  
He shifted and turned, catching her eyes as she folded her hands into her lap.  
  
The stared at each other in silence before the tense moment was cut with a knock on the door by the Doctor, dressed in pale blue scrubs.  
  
“Sam Johnson’s family?”  
  
Dean nodded, shooting up from his seat, “Brian Johnson, his brother, and…Casey, a family friend,” he added, motioning to Casey who stood behind him.  
  
“He’s doing fine, he’s still out of it due to the anesthesia, and he’ll probably just sleep through the night, he had lost quite a bit of blood.”  
  
“Is he okay?” Dean asked, voice breaking unwillingly.  
  
“Yes, he’s fine, we patched him up the best we could, we’ll wait till the swelling goes down to fit him with a cast tomorrow. We gave him a pint of blood directly after the wounds had been closed and he’s being infused with another as we speak. When that one’s done, well do a check up, take all his vitals and we might give him a third just to be safe. But given how well he is doing, he should be able to go home sometime before tomorrow night.”  
  
“Can we see him?”  
  
“Sure,” the Doctor smiled, turning and leading them down the hallway. “He’s still in post-op, but he’ll be moved to a private room within the hour. Unfortunately because he’s still in post-op, I can’t let you stay more than a few minutes.”  
  
Dean just nodded absentmindedly as the Doctor keyed in his code to open the automatic doors, he was through them before they had even swung open fully.  
  
The Doctor smiled at Casey as he left them to visit and went to finish paperwork.  
  
Casey hung back, watching Dean as he grabbed Sam’s hand, his other ghosting over his brother’s body, checking for any wounds as if the Doctor’s had missed any.  
  
“Dea?”  
  
“Hey, I’m right here Sammy,” Dean whispered, squeezing his hand as Sam slited his eyes open.  
  
“God…wha…what happened?”  
  
“That uh, gator,” he said catching Sam’s eyes and seeing the recognization, “He got you pretty good, looks like you get to spend a night with the nurses.”  
  
Sam’s arm waviered as he picked it up long enough to squint and see the I.V. buried in the crook of his elbow before letting it flop back down on the bed.  
  
“Man, I feel like I was hit by a truck.”  
  
Dean laughed softly, “Listen man, they’re not gonna be able to get you a room for at least an hour, and it’s already past midnight…they’re gonna kick me out of here in a couple minutes.”  
  
“Go.”  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“It’s alright Dean, you look worse than me,” he said, smiling lopsidedly, “Go get some rest man, can’t make any moves on the nurses with you hanging off me.”  
  
Dean grinned and nodded, squeezing his hand one more time before standing back up, seeing the Doctor out of the corner of his eye, motioning to tell him that his time was up.  
  
“We’ll post your bond tomorrow man, I’ll be here in the morning…bring you some real food,” he whispered, leaning down to Sam’s ear.  
  
“Sounds good man,” Sam slurred, waving his hand, slapping Dean’s arm softly, “See ya in the mornin.’”

* * *

 

Casey followed Dean out to the parking lot, unsure as to what she should do.  
  
When he slipped his key in the passenger door, unlocking it with a twist of his wrist before walking around to the other side, she got in silently.  
  
Dean pulled into a ABC Liquor a couple miles down the road and Casey laid a hand on his arm before he could get out.  
  
“Bartender, remember?”  
  
Dean just sighed and handed over his wad of cash, leaning his head back on the seat and waited for her.  
  
She returned with a large paper bag and he just started up the car without a word, threw it in reverse and left.  
  
He pulled into the first dive motel he found, paying for a room before pulling the car around.  
  
The door took a kick and lifting up a bit on the handle before it opened and he went inside.  
  
Casey pulled her shirt down over her belt and stood next to the Impala.  
  
Dean’s form silouetted itself against the soft light inside when he came back to the doorway.  
  
“You comin’ or not?”  
  
She sighed, picking up the bag of booze and followed him in.  
  
He grabbed the box of salt from his bag and froze. If he laid the lines like normal he would locking Casey  _in_  the room. But then again, did he really want her going out unsupervised? Despite what she had said and they way he  _did_  trust her?  
  
She saw the container, but didn’t say anything, just made her way over to the counter by the sink and began unpacking the bag.  
  
Dean laid the salt lines, out of habit more than anything else. He figured if she had a problem with it she’d make some smart ass comment.  
  
By the time he was done she had a plastic cup held in front of his face.  
  
He took the drink and chugged it without thinking, welcoming the burn and alcholic fuzz to help drown out the fact that he was in a motel room  _willingly_  with a demon and Sam was doped up on morphine in a friggin’ hospital.  
  
He gasped and coughed past a rough throat once the first couple swallows went down.  
  
“What the Hell is this?”  
  
“A Four Horseman.”  
  
“A wha?”  
  
“Four Horseman…Jim, Jack, Johnny and Jose.”  
  
His eyebrow arched, before he looked down at the liquid with a face that had Casey stifeling a laugh.  
  
“I don’t have to mix them if you don’t want.”  
  
“No, it’s…no, it’s okay,” he said, sipping the drink carefully before going for it again. “Just keep ‘em coming.”  
  
She just nodded with a sad smile before returning to her makeshift bar.

* * *

 

Two hours later and the only thing that the alcohol had accomplished was to turn the cold lead that had settled in Dean’s stomach into a molten churning mess that was tearing him up from the inside out.  
  
Anger boiled through his veins, burning hot and bright. He wasn’t even sure what he was angry at.   
  
Sam being in the hospital. The close call. Casey…so much to do with Casey.  
  
And none of it he could explain.  
  
He had already cleaned, oiled and repacked  _every_  weapon they owned. Gone through his laundry and sorted out the clothes into piles of clean, clean enough to wear again, and so dirty you need to wash it in holy water.  
  
Casey had stayed silent the entire time, watching infomercials and talk shows with the volume down low.  
  
Even that was grating on Dean’s nerves, although it really had no reason to.  
  
Who the Hell was she to just show up, tell him she would follow him…follow his ass into Hell for god’s sake. And she had saved them! Maybe that pissed him off more than anything else, the fact that he had been in the process of failing so spectacularly, watching Sam get ripped apart just to have his life and Sam’s saved by a freaking demon he thought was dead.  
  
That point was only driven home by the jagged chasm cut into the shape of Sam that was looming like a black hole on the second bed in the room. The bed that  _should_  have Sam’s lanky, oversized, snoring frame sprawled across it but instead held a compact, rounded, freaking  _demon_  on it.  
  
The newly sorted clothes got shoved back into a bag in anger. He heard a seam rip somewhere but really couldn’t give a flying fuck. It just caused his anger to bubble and burn up his throat and the bag was tossed into the window, the cheap plexi-glass rattling in its frame as the bag tumbled, smacked the arm of the chair and rolled off the side to land in an undignified whump on the floor.  
  
His hands clenched in fists so tight he could feel the crescents of his fingernails burning hot into the palms of his hands, and he caught Casey out of the corner of his eye, slipping her legs over the edge of the bed.  
  
“You want another drink?” she asked softly, not waiting for an answer as she walked back towards the counter and bottles.  
  
Looking back Dean could have sworn he heard something crack inside him.  
  
He crossed the room in a blur, wrenched on her shoulder and had her slammed against the wall before she had even made it to the booze.  
  
He saw her eyes widen in surprise for a split second before seeming to come to hesitant but accepting glaze.  
  
 _Fucking accepting._  
  
Dean slammed his mouth on hers, the sharp metallic taste of blood snaking between their lips from one or both being split open at the force.  
  
He felt more than heard her soft gasp for breath. Could feel her throat constrict under his fever-hot palm, trying and succeeding in stopping the small noise from escaping, trying and succeeding to just give in, let him have his way.  
  
He growled low in his throat, biting at her jaw, her neck, pulling a sick satisfaction from the bright red marks he left behind as his hand snatched at the belt around her waist, yanking her hips from the wall a good few inches before hearing the metal buckle pop open.  
  
His hand skidded underneath the rough denim, roughly pushing it down over the swell of her ass, gripping and squeezing hard, pulling her roughly against him, only to slam forward with his own hips, pinning her between himself and the equally as hard wall.  
  
His free hand buried itself in her hair, yanking back. He bit and sucked a purple bloom onto her throat, making himself sick at the way the heat coiled and pooled in his groin at the way he marked her skin.  
  
Her hands stuttered before laying across his shoulders, and the sheer tenderness and soft touch that flitted across his skin pissed him off and had him pinwheeling his arm, grabbing her wrists and slamming them into the wall above her head.  
  
Frustrated and downright pissed off, at himself more than anything, he ran his hand down the split of her shirt, ripping the buttons from the fabric and baring her to him.  
  
He viciously yanked her bra out of the way, not even bothering to unhook it and bit down on her nipple.  
  
She hissed, arching into the abuse and something snapped in his head. He wanted her to make some freaking kind of protest as he sucked hard, the bud turning bright red as blood rushed to the surface before practically gnawing on it.  
  
He felt the rumble in her chest as she held back her groan and he yanked her away from the wall, wrenching her arm around behind her, pushing her wrist up towards her shoulder and putting her elbow into a joint lock.  
  
Pushing her towards the bed, he opened his own jeans, pushing them down off his hips and he roughly pushed her onto the bed. She didn’t even bother to catch herself, just let her cheek be pushed into the rough blanket as he knelt behind her.  
  
She turned and buried her face into the bed when he jammed two fingers inside her, slicking up his hand before jerking himself, only to return and bury himself to the hilt inside her.  
  
He used her still locked arm as a brace, as a handle, pulling her back against him every time he pulled out, thrusting back into her hard and fast.  
  
He finally felt the ripple of a shiver trail down her spine and he flipped her over, immediately filling the space between her legs and grabbing her wrists, pinning them above her head again, before plunging back inside her, barely losing his pace or rhythm.  
  
Her neck was corded, head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, wild waves of ebony hair washed across the cheap pillow and he stuttered, clenched his hand down around her hip and felt the shiver spike start in his back, rushing up like a tidal wave.  
  
Her eyes shot open, inky  _solid black_  catching his and he shuddered, the dam inside him breaking and the white hot torrent of his release rushing forward and pushing past any restraint he might have even  _tried_  to hold on to.  
  
When he finally opened his eyes again, muscles still quivering with stagnant adrenaline they were desperately trying to burn off, her eyes were back to their chocolate brown  _human_  counterpart and they stared at each other in silence. She never once tried to break his hold on her.  
  
It was like his release had created a vacuum inside him and all of a sudden his senses came rushing back times ten.  
  
He could smell the sex and sweat between them, hear her breathing, that was a little too calm considering what they had just done, could see the sweat on her skin as if it was radioactive. He could still taste the copper sharp blood from their kiss and could feel the flutter of her pulse under his hand.  
  
His eyes skidded off hers, fluttering up to where his hand was still holding her wrists and his fingers jerked, almost not wanting to release after the force and time he had had them clenched and he could see the deep red marks around her wrists.  
  
Once he had released her his eyes found hers again, the overwhelming  _oh god, what have I done_  washed over him in a hot wet gust, causing his stomach to roll and pitch.   
  
He slipped out of her, her body still stretched out, arms above her head. He clutched nervously at his jeans, still around his thighs, before rushing off to the bathroom, slamming the door and turning on the cold faucet in the shower as far as it could go before collapsing in front of the toilet and heaving up every ounce of alcohol that had gotten him into this mess.

* * *

 

It had been almost a half hour after Dean had finished his  _cold_  shower and he was still sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.  
  
His ears had been pricked, trying in vain to hear something coming from the outer room. He knew Casey was still out there, the salt lines would prevent her from leaving even if she wanted to.  _And why wouldn’t she want to?_  
  
Cautiously, he cracked open the door, noting that the T.V. was off. He peered around the door and saw her, sleeping on the same bed he had forced her onto.  
  
“Case?”  
  
There was no answer, for which he was forever grateful and he silently made his way out of the bathroom.  
  
He stopped at the foot of her bed. She had taken off her jeans and bra, folded them neatly and set them in the chair next to the wall. She left her shirt on, although unbuttoned and had the blanket pulled up over her waist.  
  
She looked so calm, so downright peaceful his stomach threatened to stage a revolt again.   
  
He collapsed onto his own bed, running a hand over his face and up through his hair before looking at her again.  
  
Dean heaved a sigh, seeing the marks on her wrists, her neck, the swell of her hip. Marks that he had made and he clenched his jaw in anger, pissed at himself at how he had let his control slip, how he had let it go too far, how he had snapped so spectacularly. He stared at her for several more silent minutes, trying to ride the raging waves inside his own head.  
  
Swallowing past the sudden bile that had risen in his throat he sighed again, before snapping off the light and curling into a ball in his own bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Casey cracked her eyes open at the soft snick of the door closing.  
  
Dean froze the second he knew she was awake, a bag in one hand and a cardboard tray full of drinks precariously balanced on his other.  
  
“Hey,” she said softly, sitting up.  
  
“H…hey,” he answered, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. “I uh…um,” he looked down at the stuff in his hands, as if he had forgotten what he had been holding. “I uh, got coffee…and bagels.”

“Cool,” she said, getting out of bed, still half naked and Dean quick fumbled to place the food on the small table and look away.  
  
“Do I have time for a shower or do you want to go get Sam?”  
  
“Um, no, you can…no, it’s okay, you can…take a shower.”  
  
She smiled, as if nothing in the world was  _freaking upside-down wrong_  and his own lip twitched into a smirk before he realized it, only snapping out of it and clumsily puttering around the room after she had turned on the water in the bathroom.  
  
Dean had finally sat down, surfing around on the internet looking for nothing in particular when Casey came back out.  
  
She had her shirt held closed with her hand and only then did Dean realized he had ripped the buttons off last night.  
  
“Do you, happen to have a shirt I can borrow?”  
  
“Fuck, um yeah, sure,” he muttered, digging through the mess of his duffle before pulling out one that he knew at least to be clean.  
  
“Look…I’m,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, ‘bout last…”  
  
She held up her hand to stop him before pulling the soft cotton over her head.  
  
“I really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what you did Dean.”  
  
His brow furrowed, mouth working like a fish out of water.  
  
“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” her eyes going cold as the meaning sunk in. “What you did doesn’t even register on the same radar. Besides, it not like I didn’t enjoy it.”  
  
“Now,” she said with a smile, taking a sip of a coffee, “You wanna go get Sam? You did promise him breakfast.”  
  
Dean sighed, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand and returning a small smile before nodding and grabbing his jacket.  
  
“Can you get the food?”  
  
“Sure,” she said, picking up the impromptu breakfast.  
  
Dean’s hand grabbed the door handle and froze, “Look…”  
  
“Don’t. Just don’t Dean, I’m fine.”  
  
He smiled sadly and nodded before walking outside. He was halfway to the Impala before he realized she wasn’t behind him. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, eyebrow arched.  
  
“Mind letting me out?”  
  
They both laughed when he doubled back, drawing a broken line through the salt with the toe of his boot.

* * *

 

Casey stayed outside the doorway when they made it to the second floor of the hospital and to Sam’s room.  
  
“Hey man,” Dean said, pleased to see Sam looking alert and strong, and doing his damnedest to ruin his new cast by jabbing a pencil down under the plaster.  
  
“Whoa dude, chill out there,” Dean said with a crooked smile, snatching the pencil from Sam who gave a petulant pout. “You’re gonna give yourself lead poisoning.”  
  
“That’s such bullshit, they haven’t used actual lead in pencils since the dark ages, besides, it’s not like we don’t handle it everyday or anything, now give it back, it itches” he scowled, holding out his hand.  
  
“No way, your just gonna scrunch up all that padding shit in there and it’ll be even worse.”  
  
Sam crossed his arms and outright brooded, which only caused Dean to laugh more before he handed over the cup of coffee and bag of bagels.  
  
“Here, I promised you real food instead of this hospital crap,” he offered, dragging over the vinyl covered chair from the corner.  
  
“Thanks man,” Sam mumbled, pulling out a bagel and a packet of cream cheese.  
  
“So what happened? I remember you getting your boot stuck in the mud, and then that damn thing just  _appearing.”_  
  
“Heh, yeah, snuck up on us I guess…damn thing knocked you down, I tried to get to you but the mud wouldn’t let me go.”  
  
Sam nodded, muttering around his mouthful of food, “Yeah, all I can remember thinking was ‘go for the thing’s eyes.’ So how’d you kill it?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing at it’s now lukewarm state.  
  
“I uh…I didn’t.”  
  
“What do you mean? It didn’t just let us get away.”  
  
“No, no it didn’t,” Dean shook his head. He had hoped to postpone this discussion as long as he could, or you know, forever, but it was rearing its ugly head refusing to stay caged.  
  
“Dude, c’mon.”  
  
“Casey saved us.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Casey…the, the bartender, from Elizabethville.”  
  
The crumbs of bagel that shot from Sam’s mouth were anything but dignified.  
  
“That demon bitch?!”  
  
“Hey! Watch it, she saved both our asses back there.”  
  
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”  
  
“Look Sam…”  
  
“Where is she?”  
  
“Here, but…”  
  
“Good,” he shot out, rolling the bedside table away from himself. “Let’s get me out of this popsicle stand and we’ll go take care of her.”  
  
“Sit the fuck down,” he spit out, standing in order to physically block Sam if he had to.  
  
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise as he froze.  
  
“Look Sam, she saved us, whether you like it or not. She tracked our asses all the way from Ohio after you tried to freaking  _kill_  her! And you’re not going off half cocked and taking her out Chuck Norris style.”  
  
“Dean…listen to yourself, she’s a demon,” Sam said slowly, like he was a talking to child who just hadn’t understood yet.  
  
“I’m well aware of that  _Sam_. She’s also a demon who’s promised to watch out for my ass when my ticket comes due.”  
  
Sam’s face paled and Dean’s followed when he realized just what he had said. He really needed to work on  _shutting the Hell up_  when they got into it like this.  
  
“What?” Sam squeaked.  
  
Dean hung his head. “The girl she was possessing died, the wild bullet you shot her with killed the host, but not her…”  
  
“It was only a wild bullet because you freaking tackled me!”  
  
“Will you let me finish?!”  
  
Sam snapped his jaw shut and glowered.  
  
“She tracked me down Sam, she…she’s going to follow us, fight with us.”  
  
Sam squawked, about to launch into his own tirade when Dean held his hand up glaring black and menacing telling Sam to just shut up.  
  
“You might not wanna trust her Sam, and don’t even get me started on your little  _friend_ Ruby, but  _I_  trust her. And the fact that she was still around this morning after I...”  
  
Dean’s eyes widened like saucers and he took a step back from the bed, wishing he could take a step back in time and  _not_  blurt that out. Seriously? Where was some duct tape?  _For his freaking mouth!_  
  
“After you did  _what_  Dean?” Sam asked slowly, the lukewarm coffee and thick bread threatening to make an encore appearance.  
  
“I uh…nothin.’ I didn’t do anything.”  
  
“You’re such a crappy liar.”  
  
“Dude! I lie everyday and  _lots_  of people believe me…”  
  
“ _Dean_ ,” Sam said slowly, drawing out his name.  
  
“I kinda…freaked out last night and sorta…forcedmyselfonher,” he said in a rush.  
  
“You what?!” Sam said, shooting up from the bed, before scrambling to get a hold of the open backs of his hospital gown. “Are you fucking insane?!”  
  
“Maybe…”  
  
“Dean!”  
  
“I don’t know okay! Don’t ask me why, I’ve never…I’d never do something like that! I don’t know why I did! But she was still there this morning, acted like nothing was wrong…I think she can help us,” he added, the fight leaving him in a rush.  
  
“You’re nuts…and, sort of a necrophile,” Sam said, face scrunching up comically as he thought about it.  
  
“What?!”  
  
“We’ll you said the host was dead.”  
  
“Okay that’s just wrong,” Dean grumbled, suddenly kind of freaked out at that semi-true statement. “And the body’s still alive, it’s just…her, instead of the person…”  
  
God this demon stuff was hard to understand.  
  
Sam shook his head, “That’s not the point Dean, we can’t trust her. You told me yourself how she had spoke about following Azazel, about her faith in Lucifer.”  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“No, Dean…”  
  
They both were silenced when Casey came around the corner placing Sam’s bag of clothes inside the door.  
  
“Look…I, I’m just gonna go…”  
  
“Casey…”  
  
“No Dean, Sam’s not going to trust me…and I can’t blame him,” she shrugged. “The world has enough evil they need you two to fight, you don’t need to be fighting each other,” she said softly before disappearing around the corner.  
  
Dean had taken two steps towards the door before he even turned around to look at Sam.  
  
He still stood, clutching at the hospital gown, mouth half open in frozen shock.  
  
“Go get her,” he quietly.  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“Go Dean…before she’s gone.”  
  
Dean just sighed and rushed out the door.

* * *

 

“Hey! Casey! Wait up!” Dean called, jogging to catch up before she could make it to the elevators, he grabbed her elbow and she stopped instantly.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Just…don’t run away.”  
  
“I’m not running away Dean, Sam doesn’t want me here.”  
  
“He’s the one who sent me after you.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Sam stopped any answer Dean might have given, as he walked up beside them, changed into his own clothes now.  
  
“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here…but Dean trusts you…and I trust Dean, so that’s enough for me.”  
  
Casey looked at him dumbfounded.  
  
“But if you even twitch in the direction that looks like you’re going to backstab him, us, don’t think for a moment I won’t send your ass back to Hell or outright kill you.”  
  
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”  
  
He nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. “Now can we please get me the Hell outta here?” he grinned, “Besides, I think you two have a lot to explain on the ride home.”  
  
Dean just laughed and led them back to the nurses’ station to fill out Sam’s discharge papers.


	5. Chapter 5

They spent a week learning how to move around each other, how to deal with the new dynamic.  
  
And Dean maxed out a new credit card on outfitting Casey since she had left everything behind when she had single-mindedly sought them out.  
  
The end of that week tested both the boys’ trust in her.  
  
Dean swung open the glass door to a Steak ’n’ Shake and let Casey and Sam walk in before him.  
  
Sam had just grabbed the second door’s handle, about to enter the restaurant when Casey froze.  
  
“What?” Dean asked, following where she was staring.  
  
“He’s a demon.”

“What?” Sam asked, spinning around to look at where her gaze was fixated.  
  
“Way to make it obvious guys,” she snapped, grabbing Sam’s sleeve and yanking him back around.  
  
“The middle aged, five-seven, five-eight dude sipping a chocolate shake…brown jacket. He’s a demon.”  
  
“How can you tell?”  
  
Casey just arched her brow and shot Sam a look.  
  
“Okay fine, what do we do?”  
  
“You boys go back to the motel.”  
  
“What?” Dean squawked.  
  
“Go back to the motel; put a seal under Sam’s bed.”  
  
“And what are you going to do?”  
  
“Take him there.”  
  
Dean arched his brow this time.  
  
“Look, he’s going to be able to tell what I am just the way I can. And it hasn’t quite gone down the grapevine yet that you boys have a demon on your side so I can get him to follow me back, get him in the seal and then wham, bam, thank you ma’am you send his ass packing back to Hell.”  
  
They had to admit, it was a pretty good plan.  
  
“C’mon Sam,” Dean said, grabbing Sam’s jacket and yanking him back outside. He stopped and pointed a finger at Casey before he let the door close behind him. “You’re not there in a half hour and I’m coming back.”  
  
She just nodded, waiting for them to leave before she made her way into the restaurant. She waved off the waitress and headed straight for the lone man, sliding into the seat opposite him and grinning.  
  
“Hi there,” she smiled, letting her eyes flash black for a split second.  
  
“Hi yourself,” he grinned, letting his own eyes slip, leaning back, propping his arm across the back of the booth.  
  
“What’s your name handsome?” she smiled, buttering him up.  
  
“Chuck.”  
  
“That’s not the name I was looking for sweetheart.”  
  
He grinned, “Pavel.”  
  
She smiled, “Anjasi, but you can call me Casey.”  
  
“Well Casey, what are you doing in this no-name town?” he asked, lecherous grin crossing his face as she leaned forward, pushing her breasts dangerously close to spilling out of her top.  
  
“Passing through…you know, places to see, people to do…or kill, whatever,” she shrugged.  
  
His smile widened.  
  
“Look, no need for us to beat around the bush  _commilito_ , so what do you say we go back to my place.”  
  
“Well alright then,” he smiled, throwing some cash down before leading them outside.

* * *

 

Casey made sure to make enough noise that the boys would know they had arrived before she just barged into the room.  
  
Dean nodded, slapping Sam’s chest and motioning to the bathroom, where both of them slipped into and stood quietly.  
  
‘Chuck’ had his hand on the small of Casey’s back and it took every ounce of control she had to not just spin around and rip it off. She kept telling herself that the human host might still be salvageable.  
  
“Why don’t you just lay down hun, I’m just gonna freshen up,” she smiled, headed towards the bathroom.  
  
He just shrugged off his jacket and sat down on the bed, “Sure thing sweetheart.”  
  
“Your turn,” she whispered, slipping in the small bathroom bunched up with the boys.  
  
“Is he trapped?”  
  
“No, I told him you were in here and he’s waiting to ambush you…would you just go?!”  
  
Sam huffed, even though he was smirking and stepped out first.  
  
Dean was just about to follow when he stopped and looked over at Casey, she had her eyes closed, fists clenched by her side.  
  
“Hey…hey,” he said a little stronger, reaching up to tilt her face towards his. “You okay?”  
  
She leaned into his touch ever so slightly and he could have sworn he saw her brown irises lighten a little.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she grinned, pushing past him to go back out into the room.  
  
“What the Hell you traitorous bitch!” Chuck roared, slapping futilely at the barrier the seal held him within.  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“You may send me back but mark my words  _proditor_ , I will make sure  _every_  one of us knows who you are and who you’re fighting with,” he glared, black eyes shining.  
  
“You have fun with that.”  
  
Sam took a deep breath, preparing to start reading the exorcism when Dean slapped a hand down over the page, “Wait.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Go wait outside,” he said, turning to look at Casey.  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“Because he’s about to read an exorcism, so unless you want to go back with this joker over here, you need to go wait in the car.”  
  
“Oh…right.”  
  
None of them had thought about that little detail, it suddenly complicated this whole arrangement they had. It was going to be tricky fighting with them, when she couldn’t be around for the most important part of the battle.  
  
She nodded, taking his keys and headed outside.   
  
Sam waited until he heard the tell-tale creak and slam of the Impala’s door before he started reading.  
  
Casey could hear the screams outside.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, the poor bastard that had been possessed didn’t make it. Sam had slipped out the back to get rid of the body when Dean appeared in the room’s doorway, letting Casey know it was okay to come back in.  
  
“I’m guessing this one wasn’t a win,” she muttered, closing the door behind her.  
  
“No, it wasn’t,” Dean snapped, collapsing on the bed and running his hand through his hair.  
  
They sat in silence until Sam got back.  
  
“I got an idea,” he blurted out, before he was even through the door.  
  
“Well that’s never good,” Dean shot back, looking up.  
  
Sam sent him a withering glare.  
  
“A binding link.”  
  
A cold spike shot up Dean’s spine, the name alone calling back unwanted memories of a black-eyed  _Sam._  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“We can bind Casey inside her body, and then we won’t have to worry about making sure she’s clear of exorcisms.”  
  
Dean turned to look at her where she was propped against the headboard of his bed.  
  
“Sounds good to me,” she shrugged.  
  
It wouldn’t completely nullify the effects of an exorcism; it would still feel like she was trying to be torn from the body. But she’d lived through Hell itself, so why not?  
  
“Alright,” Dean nodded, “We’ll do you remember what…when Meg…”  
  
“No,” Sam whispered, absentmindedly fiddling with his sleeve, pulling it down over his wrist.  
  
“Alright,” Dean cut out, a little harsher than he wanted to. “Call Bobby, tell him we’re stopping by. He’ll know how to do it, and if he doesn’t he’ll be able to figure it out…just…don’t tell him  _why_  we’re coming.”  
  
Sam nodded, digging his cell phone out of his pocket while Dean and Casey locked eyes in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pavel, the name of 'Chuck' is Latin for small or humble, from here: http://www.babynamesworld.com/meaning_of_Pavel.html
> 
> Anjasi, the name Casey gives, is Sanskrit for honest or deceitless. I wanted to stick to Latin but I really liked the meaning for that name, and Sanskrit is old right? lol From here: http://www.babynamesworld.com/meaning_of_Anjasi.html
> 
> Casey also uses the word commilito which is Latin for comrade or companion in war, when she addresses him in the diner. 
> 
> And 'Chuck' calls her a proditor when he is trapped, which is Latin for traitor or betrayer.
> 
> I used this site, for both word translations: http://www.tranexp.com:2000/Translate/result.shtml


	6. Chapter 6

“So tell me again why I should be comfortable just walking into this guy’s house?” Casey asked, leaning over the back of the front seat.  
  
“Because you’re with us,” Dean said, taking a turn off the main highway onto the back roads that would take him to Bobby’s.  
  
“Just watch where you step,” Sam said, turning to look at her, “He’s got traps set up all over the place.”  
  
“Wonderful.”

Dean chuckled, “Not like we wouldn’t release you.”  
  
“And don’t drink his beer,” Sam said, somewhat quietly, Dean shooting him a look, remembering what Bobby had done to subdue the demon possessed Sam.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“He puts holy water in it,” Dean grinned.  
  
“What makes you think he won’t recognize me from back in Ohio?”  
  
“I don’t think he really got a good look at you…besides, we’re not gonna let him touch you so chill out.”  
  
Casey huffed, resting her chin on the seatback. 

* * *

 

“Well hey boys,” Bobby smiled, eyes freezing for a split second on Casey, “C’mon in.”  
  
“Thanks Bobby,” Sam smiled, moving past him as he held the door open.  
  
Casey tried to be nonchalant about looking around before she stepped anywhere, but Bobby had been in the game for far too long.  
  
“So…why you boys dropping in?” he asked innocently, heading over to the couch and motioning for them to sit.  
  
Sam took the old worn out recliner, glancing over at Dean and Casey as they settled nervously on the opposite sofa.  
  
“Well…you know,” Sam stuttered.  
  
“You need help, tell me something new.”  
  
Dean grinned.   
  
“Show him,” he said softly, looking at Casey.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Show him,” he said, absentmindedly touching her knee in reassurance, a move that was not lost on Bobby.  
  
She sighed, glancing between Sam and Dean before meeting Bobby’s eyes, and letting her own flash black.  
  
“Son of a…” Bobby immediately stiffened.  
  
Dean tensed ready to stop him but froze when he felt the length of Casey lean ever so slightly into him. Luckily Sam jumped in.  
  
“Listen Bobby, before you freak out…”  
  
“Before I freak out?”  
  
“She’s on our side.”  
  
“And why the Hell should I believe that?!”  
  
“Because she’s been with us for a couple weeks now…and has helped us fight.”  
  
The glare Bobby shot at them had both the boys shifting in their seats.  
  
“Case, why don’t you go outside,” Dean said quietly.  
  
She nodded before silently leaving.  
  
“Are you two mad?!”  
  
“Possibly,” Dean said, mouth set in a grim line.  
  
He normally was pretty casual, comfortable, with Bobby but something was different this time, and even he couldn’t explain the way he  _needed_  to defend Casey.  
  
Sam squinted, the years had taught him how to read Dean’s body language and he could see the way his muscles had tensed.  
  
“Uh…Dean, doesn’t the Impala need an oil change?”  
  
“What?” Dean asked, surprised and a bit peeved.  
  
But Sam knew working on the car would calm him down more than anything else, and he needed to talk to Bobby…both about what they had come there for in the first place and about something that had been a slow burn in the back of his own mind.  
  
“There’s some oil in the shed Dean, should be some filters in the cabinet too,” Bobby said softly.  
  
With an aggravated sigh he got up and left.

* * *

 

Casey was leaned against the side of the house, sitting on the steps when Dean slipped out, closing the old warped door with a forceful tug.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” he mumbled, settling down beside her.  
  
Casey bit her lip and stayed silent. She could feel the waves of tension and frustration that were rolling off him and knew better than to push him.  
  
“Can you help me get the car up on the ramps? I need to change the oil,” he said, getting up and walking towards Bobby’s tool shed without waiting for her answer.

* * *

 

“So son, what’s this trip really for?”  
  
Sam sighed, wringing his hands together nervously, leaning forwards.  
  
“Well first I want to talk to you about something while Dean’s not here.”  
  
Bobby’s eyes twitched over to the door before landing back on Sam.   
  
“Okay…what is it?”  
  
“Well…” Sam’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, trying to find the words. “I’m not sure, how exactly to explain it…but it’s like…they’re connected.”  
  
“Dean and…”  
  
“Casey.”  
  
“How do you mean?”  
  
“I don’t even know, that’s what’s been bugging me. I mean,” he sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “She told him she’d follow him. She said…she said that because he had tried to save her, and because she had no one else to follow that her allegiance is with him now, and,” he sighed again, “She said that if I…if I don’t…at the end of the year she’ll follow him into Hell…help protect him,” he whispered, shoulders shaking with tension.  
  
Bobby took his hat off, scratching his head before plopping it back down, rubbing his hand across his cheek.  
  
“What’s this about being connected?”  
  
“I’ve seen her sometimes, like…like she’s fighting something, inside, and all Dean has to do it catch her eye, or touch her arm or something and it’s like the fight drains out of her. I really think she’d do whatever he asked her too.”  
  
Bobby nodded, his eyes darting back and forth across the floor.  
  
Without a word he got up and walked into the other room, his finger trailing down a mountain of books, speed reading the spines, trying to find something.  
  
Sam followed, stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously.  
  
Finally Bobby grabbed a book off one of the shelves, snorting as a small cloud of dust erupted in its wake. He sat down at the small table and began flipping through the old brittle pages slowly, scanning over pages and pages of ancient dead languages.  
  
“Well I’ll be damned…”  
  
“What? What is it?” Sam asked, trying to read the book upside down from his seat.  
  
“She’s bound to him.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’ve heard about it before, I’ve never  _seen_  it though, let alone between a demon and a human.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Well there’s no telling what sparked the connection, probably because they both saved each other’s lives. But they are connected like you said. She will follow him, she’s not an automaton or anything, she still has free will, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred she’ll do as Dean says, just out of plain ol’ loyalty to him.”  
  
“He can control her?”  
  
“Kind of, like I said, she’s still her own person. It’s hard to explain, this book only mentions it in passing, I’ve never seen anything that goes in depth about it.”  
  
“What about when he touches her?”  
  
Bobby shrugged, “Hell if I know, the physical connection probably just strengthens the bond. Hell, I saw it in there,” he said, waving a hand towards the other room.  
  
“You saw that too?” Sam smirked.  
  
“Boy I was hunting when you were still in diapers,” Bobby grinned. “Yeah, I saw it.”  
  
Sam smiled.  
  
“Get Dean in here…alone.”

* * *

 

Dean had just taken out the drain plug, snatching his arm away quickly, making sure the thick black fluid drained into the empty pan.  
  
“Dean?” Sam called, leaning out the door.  
  
“What?” Dean squawked.  
  
Sam grinned. “Bobby wants to talk to you.”  
  
Dean paused, repositioning the oil pan a little before grabbing a hold of the bumper and yanking himself out from underneath it, the creeper grating against the uneven concrete slab.  
  
He stood up, wiping his hands on an old rag, which didn’t help much considering he had already managed to get grease on his t-shirt, his over-shirt long since discarded in the car.  
  
“You think you can finish her up for me?” he asked, holding out the wrench.  
  
“Sure,” Casey said, reaching for the wrench just in time for Dean to snatch it away from her grasp.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Dean…I remember the  _first_  car…I think I can manage changing oil. Besides I know if I fuck it up you’ll just send my ass to Hell.”  
  
“No I wouldn’t,” he grinned, letting her grab a hold of the wrench.  
  
Both of them froze, something clicking, realizing that they both knew he meant it.  
  
Dean finally looked away, wiping his hands again before handing over the rag and headed towards the house.  
  
He couldn’t help but turn around halfway there to watch as she pulled herself underneath the Impala.

* * *

 

“What’s up Bobby?” he asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall, eyeing Sam suspiciously as he sat back down at the table.  
  
“Have you, noticed, anything between you and Casey?”  
  
“What? Like crazy amounts of sex pheromones ‘cause we’re both so hot?” he grinned.  
  
Bobby clenched his jaw trying hard not to turn that boy over his knee.  
  
“What do you mean?” Dean sighed.  
  
“A connection,” Sam said quietly, Dean catching his eyes.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just answer the question,” Bobby said.  
  
“Maybe,” he mumbled, shifting nervously. “What is this about?”  
  
“She’s bound to you Dean.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“There’s not a whole Hell of a lot of information  _anywhere_  on it, so don’t go spouting off questions. But I’m assuming,  _somehow_ , because you both saved each other’s lives she became bound to you,” Bobby explained.  
  
“Have you ever noticed when she might be nervous, or angry…and you, I don’t know, say something, touch her and all of a sudden she’s fine?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“You can control her Dean…to a certain degree,” Sam added, glancing at Bobby to make sure he didn’t muck up the information. “Not like a robot or anything, but I’ve seen it too, between the two of you.”  
  
“So…what does it have to do with anything?”  
  
“Well, nothing really,” Bobby shrugged, “Just gives you one more reason for you to be connected to her, one more reason for you to trust her...for me to trust her.”  
  
“So it’s no big deal?”  
  
“Well, like I said, it’s not documented anywhere, so I wouldn’t go broadcasting it, or else you’ll end up some whacked out hunter’s lab rats…but,” he shrugged, “It’s not  _that_  big a deal.”  
  
“Okay…well then can we finish what we came here to do?”  
  
“Which is what?” Bobby asked.  
  
“Geez, way to go Sammy, been here over an hour and you haven’t told him,” Dean smirked, grabbing the last empty chair and spinning it around to straddle it.  
  
“What do you know about binding links?”  
  
“We need to know how to burn one…properly,” Sam added.  
  
Bobby’s eyes unconsciously went to the pale scar that still stood on Sam’s arm.  
  
“You wanna lock that demon in that poor girl’s body? Which reminds me,  _why_  are you letting her stay in that body?”  
  
“The body’s dead,” Dean blurted. “When she got shot back in Ohio, the body bled out, but because it wasn’t a direct shot, Casey…well, Demon Casey, was able to recover, and she’s just been truckin’ along in the…shell,” he said, waving his hand.  
  
Bobby nodded, “So why do you want to lock her in?”  
  
“Well we realized how tricky it could be,” Sam said, “I almost started reading an exorcism the other day with her still in the room.”  
  
“I’ve got a book around here with the ritual in it,” Bobby nodded. “Dean, go get a socket and flat-head screwdriver, they’ll work. And grab the propane torch from the cabinet in the shed.”  
  
Dean nodded, getting up to go collect the supplies and to tell Casey they were getting ready.  
  
“Sam, you come with me, we’ll go find that book.”

* * *

 

Casey pulled her hair up in a bun, straddling a chair in the middle of the kitchen, hanging her chin over the back, baring her neck.  
  
It would hurt like a bitch, branding it on the back of her neck, but it could also be easily covered.  
  
She heard the boys moving behind her, getting situated.  
  
Dean stood just in the edge of her peripheral vision, holding the socket, on the end of a long extension in one hand and a decent length screwdriver in the other. The propane torch set on the table, waiting to be fired up.  
  
Sam fidgeted with the old leather bound book Bobby had bookmarked for him.   
  
Bobby had taken it upon himself to do the dirty job of actually being the one to put the scorching metal against her skin.  
  
Casey could feel Dean thrumming. Memories of a red hot poker searing through his flesh literally burning through his mind. And yeah, demons didn’t feel pain the same way humans did, but they did still feel it, and this was gonna hurt like a bitch.  
  
She caught his eye, turning her head as she heard the switch of his lighter, the blue flame on the torch erupting with a whoosh.  
  
“Relax boys, I’ve survived Hellfire, I think I can deal with hot steel for a few seconds,” she said, holding Dean’s gaze.  
  
He held the socket in the flame until the metal was red-orange against the cool blue flame, watching her the entire time.  
  
When Sam began reading the first part of the ritual she finally turned her head back, away from Dean and inhaled, hearing them switch the tool in between their hands.  
  
Bobby’s hand came down warm and firm on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly as she felt the heat radiate against her skin for a split second before the white hot pain exploded behind her eyes as the hot metal hissed and cut into her skin.  
  
Dean grimaced, the stench of burned flesh suddenly filling the small room.  
  
Sam stumbled for a split second, willing his stomach to  _stay the fuck down_  before continuing on through the reading. Nodding to Dean when it was time for the second mark.  
  
Dean inhaled sharply, handing over the screwdriver to Bobby who again warned Casey with a gentle hand on her shoulder before waiting for the binding words from Sam to burn the lock into her flesh.  
  
Instantly Sam sagged and Bobby placed the screwdriver in the kitchen sink, water hissing and steaming as the metal broke through the surface.  
  
The clunk of Dean’s boots, heavy and determined were the first thing to come back to Casey’s senses and next thing she knew his hands had engulfed hers where they were clenched around the wooden slats of the chair back and his face hovered in front of her swimming eyes before he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.  
  
Bobby and Sam both watched, glancing at each other, as the shaking from her muscles being tensed and strained against the pain subsided. Watched as she breathed a deep sigh at the same time as Dean.  
  
What they didn’t see was Dean’s feather light kiss to her forehead before he stood back up.


	7. Chapter 7

The old rickety wooden street sign waved lazily in the quiet late night breeze.  
  
Sam had stolen some random car from a parking lot, driving out to Fuller’s Cross…the nearest crossroads to where they had been staying.  
  
He sighed, pulling one of his many fake I.D.s from his pocket, placing it inside the small metal box.  
  
Before he could talk himself out of it, he dug a shallow hole in the center of the intersection, placing the box in the dirt before covering it.

He stood back up, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his pants and cautiously turned, glancing down all four empty streets.  
  
The air swirled before just stilling abruptly and Sam’s shoulders tensed, a shiver running down his spine as he felt eyes on him.  
  
“Well, well, if it isn’t the only Winchester I have yet to have met,” a sickly sweet voice crooned.  
  
Sam turned. The girl barely made it to his chest and looked like she belonged more in the hallways of a high school.  
  
“What can I do for you Sammy?” she grinned, eyes bleeding red before returning to her pretty brown.  
  
His palms itched, wishing he could just break her nose for using that name alone, let alone the other vendettas he had against her.  
  
“Let Dean out of his deal.”  
  
“Ooo, sorry, no can do.”  
  
Sam laughed, letting his hatred fuel his anger, clearly evident in the storm clouds rolling through his eyes and cold mask on his face.  
  
“Yes you can…and you will.”  
  
“Or what Sam? You can’t do anything, especially now that your yellowed eyed friend is gone.”  
  
“Or I’ll kill you,” Sam smiled, pulling The Colt out of his waistband and raising it smoothly to aim dead between her pretty little eyes.  
  
She had the gall to laugh.  
  
“You’re not going to shoot me Sam, we both know that. Because what if that doesn’t solve the problem?” she asked, mock concern on her face.  
  
“What if at the end of the year your dear Dean still goes to Hell?”  
  
“You let him out, or else I kill you, and you never make a deal, never crawl out of Hell…ever again.”  
  
“Sorry, like I said, no can do.”  
  
Sam pulled back the hammer.  
  
“Are you kidding me? Sam, Sam, Sam…I’m just the saleswoman, you don’t actually pay _me_  for the car.”  
  
He tried not to let his glare falter.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m not the one with the paperwork Sam, I’m just the one that had him sign it.”  
  
“Who holds his deal?”  
  
“Like I could tell you.”  
  
Sam took a step forward, bringing the barrel that much closer to her forehead.  
  
“Go ahead Sam, it isn’t going to get you anywhere and you know it.”  
  
Hit bit the inside of his cheek and let his arm fall.  
  
“Don’t worry Sam, it’ll be okay. You’ve lived without Dean before haven’t you?”  
  
She didn’t have time to react as his arm swung back up and sent a bullet speeding into her brain.  
  
Sam couldn’t hear the roar of the Impala speeding up the road, the roar in his own ears drowning it out.

* * *

 

Dean managed to catch Sam’s figure in the headlights just in time to see the flash as the gun went off.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” he growled, his foot going closer to the floor.  
  
The Impala fishtailed hard as he cut her sharp, pulling her into a stop. He was out and running towards Sam before the engine had even completely died.  
  
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screamed, still running for Sam.  
  
Sam was still checked out, staring into the airspace that just a moment before the Crossroad’s Demon had been standing in.  
  
“Sam?!” Dean roared, wrenching on his elbow and yanking him around, almost throwing him off balance completely.  
  
The creak of the Impala’s trunk opening caught Dean’s attention and he turned his head, forgetting for a moment that Casey was with him, to see her pulling a shovel and gas and salt from the trunk before catching his eyes with a cold glare. She walked over to them without a word and grabbed the girl’s hand, dragging the body off into the grass.  
  
Her glare brought Dean back from the edge of his rage and despite what Sam had done, it was done now, and apparently Sam was still dealing with it, seeing as he was still staring into nowhere.  
  
Dean reached down, holding his anger in check and took The Colt from Sam’s trembling hand before pulling him back to the car and manhandling him into the back seat.  
  
“We’ll deal with this at the motel,” he growled, slamming the door in frustration.  
  
He took a half dozen steps towards where Casey had disappeared before spinning on his heel and running his hands through his hair, finally just leaning against the cool supportive metal of the Impala until she came walking back through the tall grass.  
  
She caught his eye but said nothing before replacing the items in the trunk and getting in the passenger side, waiting for him to follow.

* * *

 

Sam sunk onto the end of his bed, staring at his hands in his lap and before the lock had even clicked on the door Dean was yelling at him.  
  
“What the  _Hell_  were you thinking?”  
  
Casey shrugged off her jacket, eyes silently shooting between Sam and Dean.  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“What Sam? I fucking told you not to go after her!”  
  
“And I’m supposed to listen to you?!”  
  
Suddenly Sam seemed to snap out of his daze and was ready to go at it again.  
  
“Hell yes you’re supposed to listen to me!”  
  
“Why?! Because I’m you’re little brother?! Screw that Dean!” he screamed, stabbing a finger at him. “I’m not some little snot nosed brat you have to watch anymore! I’m a freaking adult and I’ve been through too much shit,  _we’ve_  been through too much shit for you to freaking treat me like that anymore!”  
  
“I told you the terms of the deal,” he growled, “What if she would have taken you right then and there damnit?!” he asked, voice spiking with anger.  
  
“Well she didn’t!”  
  
“Jesus Christ Sam! You like playing Russian Roulette?!”   
  
“You do Dean!”  
  
The glare Dean shot at him could have frozen Hell.  
  
“Damnit Sam, I told you, I’m a weak bastard and I couldn’t,  _wouldn’t_  live without you, and I don’t for one  _second_  regret that deal! Given the chance I’d do it again, so how ‘bout you don’t go and get your self fucking killed since I don’t anything left to bargain with!”  
  
Sam’s eyes sparkled with a mix of unshed tears and pure anger.  
  
“You bastard,” he hissed. “You’re not the only fucking one here that doesn’t want to live without the other Dean. You wouldn’t stop at anything to bring me back what the  _Hell_ makes you think I’m not gonna do the same damn thing. Screw you and this damn martyr self-sacrificing  _thing_  you’ve got going. I used to blame Dad for it, now I just don’t know what to think, but god _damnit_  you’re not worth less than anyone else! You’re not worth less than me!” he said, voice breaking unwillingly as he tried to hold onto his anger. Anger that burned bright and hot and was so much easier to hold onto than the cold dread and sorrow that threatened to drown him, his anger was like a life raft.  
  
“ _I_  don’t regret for a second what I did Dean, and I’d sure as Hell do it again. You told me she said if  _you_  tried to get yourself out of the deal I would die, she said nothing about me!”  
  
“You’re going to gamble your life over semantics?!”  
  
“Shut up both of you,” Casey’s voice sliced through the tension, the anger and frustration in her own voice causing both boys to freeze.  
  
“First off what’s done is done. You may not like it but you know what, Sam didn’t like you saving my ass either so get over it. And yes, Dean he damn well should gamble his life over semantics because  _what_  she said is the same as a black and white legal document in our world. If she said  _you_  that does not in any way, shape or form include Sam or anyone else, which is her sloppy mistake, one that we can use to get your self-sacrificing ass out of this deal. Because you may be all ‘brave in the face of danger’ but I’ve been there Dean and I don’t want to go back and I don’t want you to go there period.”  
  
Dean didn’t even have time to pull the air from his lungs to even  _start_  to voice his comeback when Casey held up her hand.  
  
“Just shut up.”  
  
Sam’s eyes shot between the two before collapsing on the end of his bed as the adrenaline pulsing through his veins started to throb and dissipate.  
  
“Now Sam, did you get anything out of her?”  
  
He inhaled sharply, eyes still red. “She said…she said she didn’t have the contract, that she was just the sales woman.”  
  
“Did you ask her who had it?”  
  
“Yeah, but she wouldn’t tell me.”  
  
Casey sighed, “Okay, we’ll just keep looking.”  
  
“Here,” she said, pulling some cash out of her back pocket, “Go get us some dinner…and some drinks Dean, preferably death on a plate with liquid fire to follow it.”  
  
He couldn’t help but smile, reaching out and taking the cash. “Grease and high test alcohol, got it.”  
  
He was just about to go through the door when he paused.  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
He nodded with a sad smile before disappearing back outside.


	8. Chapter 8

“Bad move Sam.”  
  
Sam’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding together at the syrupy sweet voice that belonged to Ruby broke the silence of the library.  
  
He placed his hand on the open book, holding his place to look up and glare at her and she slipped into the seat opposite from him.  
  
“What do you want?” he growled.

“I was just dropping in to say hi,” she crooned, mile wide grin, “And just to let you know that killing the Crossroad’s Demon was a bad move.”  
  
“How?” he asked, instantly cursing inwardly at letting himself be drug into her sticky web.  
  
“Well I told you I could help you, and yet, you didn’t trust me, and you went after her.”  
  
“Always take the horse by the reins,” he grinned, eyes cold and hard.  
  
“True, except this time this isn’t some childhood pony you’re trying to wrangle here Sam. I told you I could help you, you’re lucky I don’t just up and leave you, leave Dean to die, for going behind my back like that.”  
  
“It’s not like it did anything,” he hissed, like a fly struggling against the bonds of spider silk. She really did know how to play him, maybe Dean was right and she didn’t hold the cards like she said she did, maybe she was just bluffing Sam into giving up the win.  
  
“No, it didn’t, and I’m surprised you didn’t realize that before you went off half-cocked and took that poor girl’s life. You do realize she was a varsity cheerleader right?” she grinned.  
  
“Such a bright future ahead of her,” she sighed, looking off and shaking her head as if she had actually given a shit.  
  
“Point is Sam, you make some stupid move like that again, and I  _will_  leave you.”  
  
“You’re not helping me now. All I get from you is a bunch of half-cooked promises. You keep  _telling_  me you can help Dean but I haven’t seen the goods yet.”  
  
“All in due time sweetie,” she smiled, standing back up.  
  
“Don’t underestimate me Sam,” she said, walking away before turning back for a second, “I’ll see you around,” she smiled, waggling her fingers before she disappeared around the corner.

* * *

 

Casey had run around the block as soon as Sam had left for the library. When she came back she went straight to the shower. She completely unpacked, reorganized and repacked her duffle when she came out. She sat down at the laptop for all of five minutes before sitting at the end of the bed and flipping through every station on T.V…twice.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
”What?” she asked, startled from her own little world.  
  
Dean waved his hand, “You seem…fidgety.”  
  
“I’m fine…I’m good,” she smiled; forcing herself to relax, crawling back to the headboard and making herself stick to one station.  
  
She crossed, uncrossed and crossed her legs again. She cracked her knuckles before crossing her arms self-consciously. Only to uncross them and crack her neck a couple minutes later before stretching her arms over he head, finally stuffing her hands in her pockets, absentmindedly bouncing her foot.  
  
“What is it Case?” Dean asked softly.  
  
“Nothing, I’m fine.”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
She bit her lip, pausing for a moment.  
  
“No,” she whispered.  
  
He got up from the small table where he had been scanning newspapers and sat down next to her on the bed, placing his hand on her knee.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I don’t think I can control it.”  
  
“Control what?”  
  
She inhaled sharply, her breath coming more forced than he could ever remember seeing.  
  
“This…feeling, my…my instincts,” she whispered, voice clouded with shame.  
  
“Case, talk to me.”  
  
“I’m a demon Dean,” she said, staring at him as if it was something that she should be punished for.  
  
“It’s like…this urge, this…craving. I told you we’re hardwired for mayhem, I feel like a wolf staked outside the sheep’s pen.”  
  
Dean’s eyes squinted, he shifted closer to her, bracing his arm on the other side of her legs as he leaned towards her. She was almost curling into herself, trying to get away from whatever this was.  
  
“I want to fight with you, for you, you know that. I wouldn’t hurt anyone, unless you told me to, I mean, I just…the  _feeling’s_  still there. There’s still times I want to reach out and break someone’s neck…feel their blood,” she finished softly, curling up on herself even more.  
  
“I’m not sure I can control it Dean,” she almost sobbed, meeting his eyes again. “I’m so close to snapping sometimes…I’m scaring myself. I need…god, I  _need_  it Dean,” she hissed, tears finally breaking free.  
  
And if Dean hadn’t have trusted her already that would have convinced him. Here she was crying, scared because she thought she was going to hurt someone.  
  
“Hey,” he rumbled, reaching up to cup her cheek in his palm, his thumb wiping away the small drop of moisture. “You’re not going to snap Case, first off, I trust you more than that, and secondly, I’m gonna be right beside you, you know that.”  
  
The way she leaned slightly into his touch was not lost on him and the conversation with Bobby about the bond came rushing back as he watched the shaking and tension in her shoulders lessen.  
  
Hesitantly he reached up with his other hand, running it softly down her arm and tried to put as much reassurance and trust into it as he could. Almost instantly her shuddering stopped and before Dean could think anymore about it he pulled her into his chest.  
  
Something twisted and tightened inside him when she wrapped her arms around him.  
  
“I trust you Case, and we can deal with this, okay?”  
  
She nodded against him and he felt her hair rub against his chin and he had to pull back, the difference between the warmth of her body and the cool air seeming huge to him.   
  
“We’ll find you some nasty monster to rip apart or something okay?”  
  
She cracked a smile and nodded.  
  
He sighed, letting his hand run over her head and down the side of her face, leaning in to kiss her forehead, and thank god Sam chose that moment to pull up outside, the rumble of the Impala pulling Dean back.

* * *

 

Casey had managed to scare the crap out of the majority of the kids. The ones that just thought playing with black magic would be a cool thing to tell their buddies all turned tail and ran when she managed to rip the door to their little basement clubhouse completely off its hinges.  
  
Sam was busy destroying the altar and marring the symbols they had, in their ignorance, actually painted and made correctly.  
  
Dean had the head honcho of their little group pinned up against the wall, thick forearm slammed across his throat.  
  
“Next time you wanna play Buffy and friends do me a favor and get the decoder ring from the Cracker Jack box and stay the fuck away from the shit you don’t understand.”  
  
“Fuck you asshole!” the kid spit, struggling against Dean.  
  
Casey laughed and Dean smirked turning to look at her over his shoulder. The kid in his infinite stupidity decided it would be a good idea to ram his knee into Dean’s groin.  
  
Which of course caused him to collapse to his knees, stars pricking his eyes, Sam beside him in an instant to help him.  
  
Casey was right on the kid’s heels, bounding out the small basement window before he had even made it around the side of the abandoned house.  
  
Dean had seen her eyes flash black when the kid had made his move and he hissed in a breath, holding Sam’s arm as he hauled himself upright and made it as fast as he could back outside, finally getting his pain back under control and running down the alleyway where he heard the kid screaming.  
  
He and Sam both almost slid to a stop when they turned the corner.  
  
Casey had the kid a good six feet off the ground, slammed against the wall of a building, wind whipping around them all, causing the trash on the ground to dance around their feet, her eyes blacker than night.  
  
“You idiotic little bastard,” she growled, twisting her wrist.  
  
Instantly the kid screamed in pain and Dean knew all too well how it felt to have your insides torn apart like that.  
  
“Casey!”  
  
The kid was turning an alarming shade of pale, tears streaming down his cheeks.  
  
“Casey! Stop!”  
  
Dean could see the way her muscles tensed, the kid suddenly drawing a ragged breath as if the weight on his chest had just been lifted and Dean saw Sam edging towards him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
Casey’s chest still heaved, the trash on the ground still swirling feebly around her feet as she reined in her power.  
  
“Casey, just chill out,” he said softly, slowly making his way towards her.  
  
Her black eyes shot to his and he froze on the spot.  
  
“Case, it’s me, just relax…”  
  
Her eyes danced over him looking for something and it clicked and he just  _knew_ somehow that she had only reacted the way she had because  _he_  had been hurt.  
  
“I’m okay, alright? I’m fine,” he rumbled, his voice softening in reassurance.  
  
Her head whipped back around to face the kid and Sam and all of a sudden the kid slumped down of the wall into Sam’s arms, who instantly was yanking him down the alleyway and telling him something in hushed tones.  
  
Dean edged closer, reaching out tentatively and touching her elbow.  
  
She jerked, wrenching away from him and Dean froze, not being able to recall a single time she had every shied away from his touch that way.  
  
“Case…”  
  
He caught a glimpse of her eyes, no longer black, but glittering with tears in the yellow streetlight before she took off in a dead sprint down the road.  
  
“Damnit!” he cursed, taking off after her.

* * *

 

He finally caught up with her two blocks away and only because Sam brought the Impala to a screeching halt across the end of the street, blocking her exit.  
  
She slid to a stop and the wet street, hand grabbing at the asphalt to keep herself from falling.  
  
Dean slowed behind her, holding his hands up when she spun to face him like a trapped animal.  
  
“It’s okay Case…just relax, tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
The way she was shaking all over was not lost on either brother.   
  
Sam eased himself out of the Impala, not wanting to interfere, knowing that if there was anyone, it would be Dean that would be able to reach her now.  
  
She backed herself against the wooden fence behind her and something clenched in Dean’s gut at the way she literally looked like a cornered animal.  
  
“Sshh, it’s okay babe, it’s just me,” he rumbled, slowly taking steps towards her.  
  
She was literally wracked with shivers and sobs by the time Dean made it within reaching distance.  
  
He hesitantly extended his arm, placing it on her elbow again.  
  
Just like before she jerked away from him, slamming herself against the fence.  
  
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, dropping to her knees and almost curling into a fetal position.  
  
Dean swallowed hard past the sudden lump in his throat as he crouched down slowly next to her.  
  
“Casey,” he whispered, concern lacing his words, “Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong...please.”  
  
“Dean,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.  
  
He inched towards her again, softly laying his own shaking hand on her shoulder.  
  
He felt her tense under his touch, ready to bolt in an instant.  
  
“What Case?”  
  
“I can’t… _god_ , I can’t control it,” she whispered, voice cracked and raw.  
  
It slammed back into him the conversation they had had. How she had told him she was afraid something like this would happen, that she would snap.  
  
“If you…if you hadn’t…I would have  _killed him.”_  
  
“No you wouldn’t have,” he whispered, shifting on his knees closer to her, sliding his hand around her shoulder, feeling the nervous fluttering of her muscles.  
  
“No you wouldn’t have Case…I trust you, I know you better than that.”  
  
She looked up at him and she looked so broken and  _lost_  Dean hitched in his own breath.  
  
“Dean,” she whispered.  
  
Instinctively he pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms and met Sam’s concerned eyes.  
  
He shifted, slipping his arm under her legs and lifted her up.  
  
Sam opened the back door and Dean didn’t even bother trying to let go, just awkwardly slid in the backseat, Casey cradled in his lap.  
  
Sam wordlessly got in the driver’s seat and headed back to the motel.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam unlocked the door, letting Dean carry Casey back inside.  
  
Dean carefully sat her down on the bed, running his hand over her hair before walking back towards the door where Sam was still standing outside.  
  
“I’m gonna go,” he said quietly, motioning to the Impala, keys in his hands.  
  
Dean just met his eyes and nodded, looking back towards Casey before meeting Sam’s eyes again.  
  
“Thanks,” he said softly.  
  
Sam nodded with a sad smile before heading back to the car.  
  
The lock of the door sounded loud in the dark quiet of the room.

Dean shrugged off his jacket, suddenly too warm and went to the bathroom to splash water on his face.  
  
He left the bathroom light on, leaving the room in darkness with only the soft light washing through the small doorway.  
  
He sat down next to her on the bed and took a deep breath before picking up her hand that she had cradled in her lap.  
  
“I can’t hold on Dean,” she whispered, letting him take her hand.  
  
He bit his bottom lip, threading his fingers through hers and squeezing.  
  
“I can’t do it…I can’t do it alone.”  
  
He turned towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her temple and she leaned into the touch. He closed his eyes, sighing and let his forehead rest against the spot his lips had just touched.  
  
“Teach me Dean… _please_ ,” she whispered.   
  
Dean didn’t think she even knew what exactly she was asking for.  
  
He sighed again, free hand coming up to cup her cheek and turn her face towards him.  
  
He placed a soft kiss on her eyelid, her cheek, the corner of her mouth before finally ghosting his lips across hers.  
  
Her lips pressed back against his for a split second, heat flaring in his stomach before she tensed and pulled back, tearing her hand from his.  
  
“No,” she hissed.  
  
“Case…”  
  
“No, this isn’t the answer…”  
  
“I’m not asking a question,” he said softly but strong, drawing her eyes back to his.  
  
“Dean…” she inhaled shakily, “I’m a demon.”  
  
“And I don’t care.”  
  
She stared at him, tensing as he reached for her hand again.  
  
“God help me Case…but you’re everything I’ve ever needed. This life isn’t exactly relationship friendly…but you,” he chuckled cynically, “You fit right in.”  
  
He cupped her cheek again, holding her still as he leaned in for another kiss, stronger this time, his tongue snaking out to wet her lips.  
  
He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed.  
  
“You asked me to teach you Case,” he whispered, his breath dancing across her lips. “Let me show you…show you what we fight for.”  
  
She shivered in his arms, but when he kissed her again she gasped, opening to him as he silently begged to deepen the kiss.  
  
That kiss was like the warmth that blossomed after a hit of hard liquor, like the cool that bled into you when you drank ice water after a run. Something just washed over him in a rush. It was like taking a hit of a drug he couldn’t quit.  
  
And he wasn’t sure he even wanted to quit.  
  
He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer and she shivered, moaning deep in her chest as her fingers grasped blindly at his shirt.  
  
He rested his forehead against hers, his fingers ghosting down the front of her shirt, buttons popping opening silently.  
  
He felt her trail her fingers down his cheek, but it felt wrong somehow and he reached up, taking her hand in his and studied her fingertips.  
  
The skin was pink, and scar-smooth on every finger.  
  
His eyes shot to hers.  
  
“I burned the prints off, I…I didn’t want Casey getting a bad name,” she whispered.  
  
“God,” he choked, the word being strangled in his throat and he closed his fist around her hands, laying a kiss on them before holding them to his forehead and closing his eyes, inhaling sharply.  
  
He brought them down, laying them on his own chest before cupping her face and pulling her into a kiss again.  
  
His hand burned hot between her shoulder blades as he lowered her to the bed, never breaking their kiss.  
  
Finally, parting to breathe he just stared into her eyes for a moment before sitting up, pulling his shirt over his head, before kissing her again.  
  
She shivered under his gentle touch when he stripped them both of their jeans.  
  
He couldn’t imagine what it must feel like for her. He knew the bond affected her more than him, and he could still feel the tug deep in his gut, the tingle under his skin when they touched.  
  
Hesitantly, softly, he cupped her breast in his palm and watched her eyes slide shut. Watched as her head tipped back, neck corded.  
  
He sucked a small red splotch in the hollow of her throat.  
  
“You okay?” he rumbled, running his free hand through her black tresses.  
  
Her eyes danced as she drew in a ragged breath, staring at him before nervously letting her hands stutter over his arms and shoulders.  
  
“Perfect,” she whispered.  
  
He surged forward, kissing her hard.  
  
She gasped against his mouth, nails digging crescents into his back when his hand snaked between her thighs, his fingers dipping into her wetness, circling softly.  
  
“Please,” she hissed, not even sure what she was asking for.  
  
“Sshh baby, I’ve got you,” he whispered, trailing light kisses down her chest and stomach, her muscles fluttering under his soft caresses.  
  
He kissed the inside of her thigh, sweeping his stubble across it before kissing right above the tender bundle of nerves between her thighs.  
  
“Oh god…”  
  
Dean smiled against her, looking up to see her heaving chest. One hand slid up, stroking over the crease of her hip, circling softly over her stomach in a calming touch, as the other gently parting her legs a little wider, finally slipping past her folds to gently sweep across the sensitive flesh.  
  
Her body arched, straining towards the soft pressure and her eyes shot open locking onto his. He held her gaze, slowly entering her with one finger, slow in and out before adding another, his eyes glazed over in wonder as she fell apart underneath him.   
  
He kissed her softly, teasing her with the tip of his tongue while his hands traced soothing circles over her fever hot skin.  
  
“Dean…” she whispered, fingers burying themselves in his hair.  
  
“It’s okay baby,” he murmured. The vibration from his words shooting through her and making her buck and push against his mouth.  
  
He brought her to the edge with slow sweeps of his tongue and insistent tugs on her clit. He had her writhing, bucking against him when he withdrew. He left one hand softly resting over her heaving stomach, wanting to keep some kind of contact between them.  
  
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she said, breathless, voice wavering.  
  
He chuckled deep in his chest, pulling himself back over her, kissing her softly, hand skimming over her soft skin as she sighed, cupping his face.  
  
He smiled against her lips, pulling back to just stare at her for a moment. Her eyes danced back and forth between his, his hand stroking over her cheek, immersing his fingers in her hair, her own trembling hands, sliding over his chest, palms smooth and hot over his nipples, sending a ripple of pleasure shooting down his spine.  
  
“Dean…I…”  
  
“Don’t say it,” he rumbled, low like thunder on the horizon. “Just…just don’t say it.”  
  
She stared at him, swallowing hard.  
  
“I think I do,” she whispered, voice lost in their breathing.  
  
He held her eyes, swallowing past his own lump in his throat.  
  
“I think I do too,” he finally sighed.   
  
He couldn’t stand to see the look in her eyes any longer, dark brown glittering with withheld tears, so he closed his own and kissed her again, hand gliding down, running over her thigh, bringing it up to drape over his hip.  
  
She sighed, arching into him and he slowly slid inside her, breaking their kiss and burying his face in the crook of her neck.  
  
Just being with her was like holding on to an electric fence, a low throb and tingle through his muscles. Being inside her was like skipping straight to the power plant.  
  
He felt a small drop of moisture roll across the back of his neck as she tightened her hold around his shoulders and brought himself back to reality, seeing tears slipping from her eyes.  
  
He kissed her, wiping them away gently, knowing it was from the power of  _this_ , whatever  _this_  was and not from her being in any kind of pain.  
  
He slid slowly out of her, thrusting back gently, as her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him on.  
  
There were whispered words mixed in with kisses, nothing that would be remembered in the morning but everything that mattered in that moment. The roll of her hips meeting each of his thrusts as he quickened his pace, her heels digging into the small of his back.  
  
He felt her shudder in his arms, felt the tingle under his skin jump and stutter, could  _feel_ her on the edge and he looped his arms under her, wrapping his fingers around her shoulders.  
  
“Look at me baby,” he whispered, words bitten out in between harsh breaths, punctuated with the piston of his hips.  
  
She inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut harder.  
  
He bent down and kissed her eyelids.  
  
“No,” she whispered, voice ragged and split open.  
  
“C’mon, lemme see ‘em babe,” he rumbled, the growl from his own chest vibrating through her, as he slowed his thrusts, but kept her on the edge of falling.  
  
She shook her head, tears slipping through the cracks as her legs fell from around him.  
  
“Case…”  
  
“No,” she sobbed, chest heaving against him. “It’s everything you’re against,” she whispered, so low and broken with sobs Dean barely understood her. “You don’t know the things I’ve done.”  
  
“No baby, I don’t, and I don’t want to know. What I do know is that you walked away from that and you  _changed_. You’re everything I fight  _for_.”  
  
He felt the shift in her, as her breathing calmed and her hands stopped shaking against his shoulders, but she still didn’t open her eyes.  
  
“Let me see your eyes baby,” he said softly, speeding his thrusts feeling her start to fall apart around him.  
  
Her eyes snapped open, solid inky black, locked onto his as her body jerked, her release shooting through her like fire through veins full of gasoline and Dean crashed his lips down on hers as her body clenched around him, pulling his own release from his body as he pounded into her, practically feeling the air crackle around them as they came down.  
  
He slipped out of her carefully, using his long forgotten shirt to clean them up before he settled next to her, arm wrapped protectively over her waist and nose buried in the soft hair at the nape of her neck.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
She nodded, smile cracking her features.  
  
“You know…I’ve been with a lot of humans over the centuries…you’re definitely one of the best.”  
  
His deep laugh shook right through his chest and into her.  
  
“You egotistical bastard,” she laughed, rolling over to face him.  
  
“Hey, you brought it up not me,” he smiled, raising his hand.  
  
Their laughter died out quietly as they stared at each other and Dean trailed the back of his hand down her cheek as he kissed her softly, sighing and pulling her closer to him.  
  
“Can I ask you something?” he asked softly.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“That…the,” he sighed, “The first time we…when I…forced, you…why didn’t you stop me?”  
  
“Because I didn’t want to,” she whispered.  
  
Dean shook his head, not able to hold her eyes and instead stared intently at where their fingers were intertwined over her stomach.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About back then.”  
  
“Don’t be.”  
  
He looked back up at her. “Case…”  
  
“Just stop Dean. First off you didn’t hurt me, so get that out of your head right now. Secondly…it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, I can take it rough sometimes,” she winked, coaxing at least a smirk from him.  
  
“If I had asked you to, you would have stopped Dean. You don’t have it in you.”  
  
He stared at her, his guilt still staining his eyes.  
  
“But I did…”  
  
“Dean, I wanted you to okay…and you needed that. You were so tore up over Sam and hell, over  _me_ , that you were about to fall apart. And damn, if having sex with you is enough to let you release some frustration by all means gimme a call!” she smiled.  
  
He shook his head, still grasping at the guilt and shame but understanding what she meant at the same time. He  _would_  have stopped if she had just voiced some sort of refusal, or even struggled against him.  
  
He smiled sadly and nodded, finally letting a genuine grin break out across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners and he kissed her again, tangling his fingers in her hair.  
  
She burrowed underneath his chin, finding the perfect spot where she just  _fit_  against him as he held her in silence.  
  
“You anchor me you know.”  
  
“What?” he asked, craning his neck to look down at where she was nestled against his chest.  
  
“I feel like I’m flying apart sometimes, like I can’t control it, and then unconsciously you brush your hand across my back or grab my elbow or something and that’s all I need to bring me back,” she said quietly.  
  
“It’s only because of you that I can protect instead of destroy.”  
  
He sighed, kissing her brow before her lips.  
  
“Well then I guess I’ll just have to keep you then won’t I?” he winked, his hand sweeping circles over her back, physically telling her that he understood and he knew what it meant for her to say that in a way he wasn’t able to in words.  
  
“Thank you Dean,” she whispered against his chest, once again making him pull back and look at her.  
  
“For what?” he growled.  
  
“For saving me…well, as much as I can be I guess.”  
  
“Hey…”  
  
“I’m never gonna see those pearly gates Dean, I’ve done too much in my past that no amount of fighting the good fight beside you will ever outweigh.”  
  
His brow furrowed in a frown before he rested his forehead against hers.  
  
“For what it’s worth…I’d fight for you, fight for you to get in those gates.”  
  
She smiled, cupping his cheek and kissing him again.  
  
“I know you would.”  
  
They laid in silence for several minutes before Casey spoke again.  
  
“Your dad would kick your ass you know.”  
  
He pulled back, seeing the smile in her eyes.  
  
“Heh, yeah, he wouldn’t really understand falling in love with a demon would he?”  
  
“Falling in love?” she whispered.   
  
Dean swallowed hard.  
  
“It’s the same for me you know,” she said, letting him off the hook. “Not like the rest of the ‘legion’ would be happy ‘bout one of their own falling in love with a hunter.”  
  
Dean smirked, finally letting a chuckle bubble up from his chest.  
  
“We sure are a pair aren’t we?” he smiled, kissing her again.


	10. Chapter 10

They had driven through the night after a standard salt and burn took a turn towards too close a call with the local authorities. They took turns driving, hell bent to get themselves as far away as possible, as quick as they dare, for as long as they all could hold out.  
  
Dean and Sam’s rather impressive rap sheets aside, Casey, for all intents and purposes  _legally_  was nothing more than a walking, talking corpse…so they could not afford a run in with the law. ‘Cause you know, that would be so easy to explain away.  
  
When the skyline finally cracked, and the sky started to turn the soft satin silver of the butt crack of dawn, Dean rubbed his eyes and set out to find them a decent motel.

Sam was curled up, rather impressively if Casey did say so, on the back seat napping. Somehow managing to fold his six foot and some odd inches frame into what actually looked like a decently comfortable position on the leather bench. Casey smiled slightly, tucking her legs up underneath herself on the seat next to Dean.  
  
A couple more miles down the road and her hand grazed over his arm, drawing his eyes to the green road sign for lodging and Dean sighed in appreciation as he took the off-ramp.  
  
Years of training and common sense had him pulling into a gas station before even entertaining the thought of sleeping. If for some reason they had to get out of Dodge, there was no way in Hell, no pun intended, that he was going to be caught with anything less than a full tank.  
  
Sam mumbled and uncurled himself from the jacket that he had wrapped himself in, when the motion of the car stopped.  
  
Dean got out, walking around to the back of the Impala, pulling the license plate down and unscrewing the gas cap.  
  
Casey hitched herself up onto her knees and leaned over the back of the seat, carding her fingers through Sam’s sleep tousled hair.  
  
“We’re gonna get a room, get some rest. You want anything from inside for later?”  
  
Sam mumbled something that thankfully she actually understood as “coffee,” closing his eyes as her fingers kept dancing across his scalp.  
  
She smiled and got out into the cool morning air, stretching the kinks out of her body.  
  
Her hand snaked into Dean’s back pocket, drawing out his wallet and earning her an arched brow and smirk from over his shoulder.  
  
“I’m gonna get us a couple things for later, which one am I using?” she asked, flipping out the section with a half dozen fraudulent credit cards inside.  
  
“Use the David Gilmour,” he said, motioning with his chin.  
  
She grinned and slipped the Visa out of its leather confines before slipping the wallet back into his pocket with an added pat and smirk before heading off to the convenience store, pulling her jacket on as she went.  
  
She made her way through the aisles picking out some standard coffee for Dean and Sam, and something that claimed to be an instant cappuccino for herself. Snatching a couple bags of chips and beef jerky and a handful of different kinds of candy for the two human vacuum cleaners outside, before grabbing a small bottle of milk, she headed to the register, waiting for Dean to signal when he was done at the pump to pay.

* * *

 

Casey went out later that night to get them all something to eat and woke the boys up long enough to make sure they chewed and swallowed before allowing them to get back to sleep and curling up next to Dean.  
  
It was only the smell of fresh brewing coffee, in the small excuse for a pot that the motel so graciously provided, that finally had them cracking their eyes open and yawing the next morning.  
  
Sam curled in on himself in the chair by the window, sipping his coffee, two sugars, one cream, as he powered up his laptop.  
  
Dean stumbled his way over to the small counter, scratching his stomach.  
  
“G’morn,” he mumbled, half the words lost as he nudged Casey’s shoulder with his own, pouring a cup of the black liquid.  
  
“Mornin,’” she smiled, nudging back and cracking open the seal to her ‘instant cappuccino.’  
  
Dean stopped, mug halfway to his lips and stared.  
  
“What the hell is that?”  
  
“Cappuccino.”  
  
“Since when do you not drink coffee?” he snorted.  
  
“It  _is_  coffee; it’s just a different kind of coffee.”  
  
“No…that is coffee flavored  _milk_ ,” he said, still eyeing her like she had grown a second head.  
  
She rolled her eyes as she mixed the powder in with the milk. To her credit she did put in twice the spoonfuls recommended by the label.  
  
“Taste,” she said, lifting the cup to his face only to see him grimace and step back as if it were the plague.  
  
“Sorry, I don’t do girly drinks, go try Sam.”  
  
There was a vague grunt from where Sam was sitting.  
  
“That is such bullshit, you drank a goddamn Hurricane the first time I met you.”  
  
“That’s ‘cause I was hitting on you! That’s different,” he said, pointing a finger in her face and heading back to the bed. “I’ll take my coffee,  _black_ , like a man,” he said, plopping down on the end of the bed.  
  
“Do I need to kick your ass just to prove I can?” she asked, with an arch of her brow.  
  
Dean, wisely, mumbled “no”...which was rewarded with another grunt that sounded suspiciously like a laugh this time from Sam’s corner, which in turn was answered with a glare and a growled out “watch it.”  
  
Casey again rolled her eyes, snatching clothes from her bag and headed to the bathroom.  
  
“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, headed towards the door.  
  
Dean waited until he thought she was out of sight, and until he thought Sam wasn’t watching to reach over silently and bring the creamy drink to his lips.  
  
Casey immediately popped her head out the door, “Pansy!” she laughed, slamming the door just in time for the flying T.V. remote to collide with the door with a bang, Sam’s laugh drowning out Dean’s muttered curses. 

* * *

 

“Hiya Sam!”  
  
He ground his teeth together, looking up from the newspaper spread across the small café table to see the ever perky, love to hate blonde named Ruby.  
  
“Why do you insist on ambushing me?”  
  
“Oh honey, if I ambushed you, you wouldn’t still be breathing,” she grinned.  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“Ooo, tempting, but sorry, no can do, gotta schedule to keep, but rain check definitely.”  
  
“What do you want?” he growled.  
  
“World peace…and a puppy,” she smiled. “Nothing, I’m just checking in, making sure you’re not contemplating another go at a coup d’etat in that big ol’ brain of yours.”  
  
“I thought you made it perfectly clear that wasn’t an option for me.”  
  
“I did…just wanted to make sure you remembered. Because not only will I let Dean die if you try to go against the grain on this with me, but I’ll make sure that Hell is…well, Hell for him, no pun intended of course.”  
  
“Are you threatening me?”  
  
“Why yes I am, but then again you don’t have much to bargain with now do ya?”  
  
Sam outright glared, wanting to reach across the table and shove a bottle of holy water down her throat, the rest of the diner’s patrons be damned.  
  
“Now, now Sam, don’t give me that look. Just play nice…and by my rules, or else Dean dearest goes bye bye. Kay?” she smiled, sickly sweet.  
  
He didn’t answer.  
  
“Alright, like I said, tight schedule and all,” she said, getting up.  
  
By the time he turned in his booth to glare at her back she was gone.

* * *

 

Dean walked in the motel room door to see an angsty, pissy, brooding Sam sitting at the end of the bed just glaring at the world.  
  
“Dude, what crawled up your ass and died?” he asked with a grimace as Casey came in behind him, shutting the door.  
  
“Ruby.”  
  
“Eww…want me to go get you a douche?” he ginned, thumbing over his shoulder towards the door.  
  
Casey shook her head, closing her eyes to keep from laughing at the pure look of death that Sam slowly fixed his brother with.  
  
“Who’s Ruby?” she interrupted, hoping to thwart any thoughts of fratricide, seeing as it just might be viewed as a justifiable homicide by the cops.  
  
“She’s a demon,” Sam said with a sigh.  
  
“Yeah, and she’s been stalking Sam for a few months now, appearing randomly, pushing his buttons,” Dean added, shrugging off his jacket and placing the bag of take out on the small table in the corner.  
  
“And you haven’t exorcised her why exactly?”  
  
Sam sighed, looking down, wringing his hands together.  
  
She arched her brow at Sam’s evasion before meeting Dean’s eyes.  
  
He sighed, “She told him she could save me,” he said quietly.  
  
Casey’s brow furrowed before she ran her hands up into her hair and started pacing the width of the two beds.  
  
“Ruby…Ruby...Ruby,” she whispered to herself.  
  
Dean and Sam shared a confused look before going back to watching her pace.  
  
“Ruby…Ruby…”  
  
She stopped dead in tracks between the beds.  
  
“That  _bitch!”_  
  
“What?” Dean squawked.  
  
“Bareket.”  
  
“Bar of what?” Dean asked, eyebrow shooting high.  
  
“It’s Latin for red Dean,” Sam said quietly, his own brow furrowed in confusion, eyes locked on Casey.  
  
“Yeah, and it’s her real name.”  
  
“You know her?!” Dean asked, walking over.  
  
“Know  _of_  her…the little bitch.”  
  
“Who is she?”  
  
Casey locked eyes with Sam and sighed.  
  
“No one who should be pushing you around. She’s barely above that Crossroad’s Demon…way below me.”  
  
“Which means…” Dean asked, waving his hand.  
  
“That I can kick her ass,” she grinned. “Demons have a hierarchy, think of it like the military. She may be a corporal, but I’m a lieutenant.”  
  
“You can control her?” Sam asked, his chest tightening in the sudden rush of maybe having the upper hand.  
  
“Basically, she’s gotta follow my orders just like a good little soldier.”  
  
“Wow,” Dean breathed, sitting down next to Sam at the foot of the bed. “Well…that’s good news.”  
  
“And the closest thing we’ve had to a lead since the Crossroad’s Demon. I mean, if she’s claiming she can get you out of your deal she must know something or someone.”  
  
“True.”  
  
“What else has she told you?” she asked Sam.  
  
He shook his head, wringing his hands together again.  
  
“Nothing really, just that, she apparently wants to help me, told me not all demons want the same thing.”  
  
“She’s lying.”  
  
“You’re different,” he pointed out.  
  
“That’s an entirely different situation and you know it.”  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed.  
  
“So what do we do now?” Dean asked.  
  
“Well when does she contact you?” she asked Sam.  
  
“Randomly…at a diner, motel room, the library once.”  
  
Her eyes danced across the floor.  
  
“Remember Jackson?”  
  
“The demon dude you caught?” Dean asked, remembering the guy she had pinpointed in a diner.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“What about it?” Sam asked, leaning forward.  
  
“We do that, every time we stop. Put a trap under your bed. That way, next time she shows, we can trap her. And then, I’ll play twenty questions and see what the bitch is up to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bareket, Ruby's real name is Latin for red. From here: http://www.babynamesworld.com/meaning_of_Bareket.html


	11. Chapter 11

It was almost a month before Ruby showed again.  
  
Sam shoved the motel room key back in his pocket as he led her through the door, closing it behind her.  
  
“I’m telling you The Colt jammed. Whatever you and Bobby did, it wasn’t good enough.”  
  
“Well if the gun jammed, it sure wasn’t my fault,” she sneered, not even waiting for him to produce the weapon in question as she stalked over to his duffle on the bed and began tearing through it without asking.  
  
She yanked it out of the mess of clothes, gave it a once over and then spun on him.  
  
“There is nothing wrong with this thing!” she said, thoroughly pissed off that he dragged her all the way back here.  
  
Sam’s evil smirk caused even Ruby to freeze.

He coolly just pulled his phone from his pocket, hit speed dial and waited for Dean to answer, never taking his eyes off Ruby.  
  
“Yeah…got her,” he grinned, snapping his phone shut.

* * *

 

Dean came through first, already glaring daggers as he walked through the door.  
  
What Ruby hadn’t anticipated was Casey walking in right behind him.   
  
She may not have known who she was, but just like any soldier she could tell a superior officer when she saw one.  
  
The sudden twist in events had her shifting where she had sat in silent plotting after Sam’s phone call.  
  
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the wicked witch of the west,” Dean sneered.  
  
“Bite me.”  
  
“No thanks, you’re not my type,” he winked.  
  
“Apparently I am,” she spat, waving her hand at Casey, whose eyes were already midnight black.  
  
“ _Silentium_ ,” she growled.  
  
Dean arched his brow and smirked at the pure look of rage that washed over Ruby’s face, but nonetheless she shut her mouth.  
  
Casey sat down on her and Dean’s bed, directly across from her and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.  
  
“So tell me,  _Bareket_ ,” she grinned, seeing the flash of concern cross Ruby’s face, “Tell me why you’ve been messing with my boy Sam here.”  
  
“Just trying to help him,” Ruby said, quietly, trying to cover her anxiety in anger.  
  
“ _Reproba orator_.”  
  
Sam felt a rush of satisfaction at how Ruby swallowed hard, fidgeting where she sat.  
  
“Now, I’m going to ask you one more time. Why. Have. You. Been. Harassing. Him?” she said slowly, enunciating each word carefully.  
  
“You’re one to talk you know? I know for a fact you were one of the ones ready and willing to follow him when he was  _supposed_  to lead the army, Anjasi.”  
  
“True. Times change. Now, you call me by name or evade my question again, and you’re not going to like how I react.”  
  
“Just trying to make him realize his proper role,” she said quietly, almost not wanting to let Sam hear, lest it break her upper hand.  
  
“What role is that?” Sam growled.  
  
“Our Commander in Chief,” she smiled cynically.  
  
“And what in the Hell makes you think he would ever agree to that?” Dean spit out.  
  
“Well first off, we were all hoping your macho ass would be toast by now.”  
  
Whatever else she was going to spout off was stopped abruptly with Casey’s hand went crashing into her cheek with a backhand so powerful that bright red erupted across half her face.  
  
Casey sat back down as if nothing had happened, giving Ruby a moment to spit the blood out of her mouth before addressing her again.  
  
“What made you think that you, of all people, would be the one to push him to that? Or more importantly, why did you think that was your mission?”  
  
Ruby stared, unwilling to give up her hand, still refusing to admit that there wasn’t any way she was getting out of this motel room alive.  
  
Dean and Sam both jerked when all of a sudden she let out a scream, gasping for breath and clutching at her chest.  
  
Dean shot his eyes to Casey, if he hadn’t have known what she was capable of he wouldn’t have even been able to tell she was using her power.  
  
Sam unconsciously leaned towards Dean when they actually  _heard_  a rib snap.  
  
“Okay,” she hissed in pain.  
  
“What was that?” Casey taunted, cupping her hand over her ear.  
  
“I said okay!” Ruby sobbed.  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
“I was…” she swallowed hard. “I was trying to get him to take his rightful place. And when he did…he would reward me for showing him what he could be.”  
  
“Wow, you are blonde aren’t you?” Dean laughed, earning a sharp glare from Sam.  
  
Ruby didn’t even have the strength to snap back at him, just turned her gaze to him almost as if she didn’t even know he had been standing there.  
  
“So you thought if you showed him the way, showed him the power he could have, he would thank you and you’d move up in the ranks, get away from the shitty little hole you currently reside in.”  
  
She just nodded, dropping her chin towards the floor, the fear that she really wasn’t making it out of this finally setting in.  
  
Casey looked over at Sam, letting her eyes return to normal for a second, before letting the black bleed back and returned her glare to Ruby.  
  
“You told him you could get Dean out of his deal.”  
  
Again Ruby nodded, defeated, sniffing back tears. Whether it was due to the pain or the fear of death was not certain.  
  
“How?”  
  
“I have control of it.”  
  
“What?” Dean boomed, crossing the room in an instant to stand next to Casey. “What do you mean you have  _control_  of it?”  
  
Casey reached out, laying her hand gently on Dean’s arm.  
  
“I hold the contract,” she whispered.  
  
“Dear god,” Sam breathed, sinking down onto the bed, hands shaking.   
  
“That’s why you were so pissed when I killed the Crossroad’s Demon…” he said quietly.  
  
“You were getting too close to me,” she said, tears falling unbidden down her cheeks.  
  
“Release him,” Casey cut out, strong and determined, more than obvious that it was a command.  
  
Suddenly Ruby seemed to gain a second wind.  
  
“And why would I do that? You’re just going to kill me once I do!” she spat.  
  
Dean shifted his weight ready to take a step forward. Casey held out her hand and stopped him, returning to her feet and looming over the younger woman.  
  
“I’m going to kill you whether you do or not. Only difference is whether I have mercy on your pathetic ass. You release him now, like I say and I’ll slit your pretty little throat with your prize knife,” she said deathly low, reaching over and pulling the bone-handled dagger from where it had been sheathed on Ruby’s hip.  
  
“Or…you let me release some tension, blow of some steam as I torture you for  _weeks_ until you are  _begging_  me to  _let_  you release him,” she smiled, leaning into Ruby’s face.  
  
Dean watched her carefully, seeing that deadly side of her that she credited him with holding at bay.  
  
Only, he could really give a rat’s ass about holding it at bay right now.  
  
For several stretched-out seconds the only sound in the small motel room was Ruby’s pain constricted breathing.  
  
Up until she gasped in pain, as her finger bent backwards seemingly of its own accord until it popped.  
  
Sam clenched his eyes and turned away. Even Dean winced, looking away for a split second, seeing her grasping at her wrist like it could somehow stop the pain from radiating up her arm when he finally looked back.  
  
“I release you!” she said quickly, her second finger already starting to bend.  
  
Casey didn’t stop and Dean was ready to lay a hand on her shoulder when Ruby screamed again.  
  
“Okay! Okay!”  
  
Her finger stopped its unnatural movement, the way it was frozen even more disgusting.  
  
Ruby began reciting Latin, Sam only being able to pick up a few words like binding, soul and release.  
  
Dean no doubt picked up less of the vocabulary, but it was evident on Casey’s face that she understood every word.  
  
“Good,” she grinned when Ruby finally sagged back when Casey withdrew her power.  
  
“Boys, how ‘bout you wait outside?”  
  
“Casey…”  
  
“Dean, you’re free okay? That’s all that matters. I don’t want you here for this.”  
  
“We’ve killed demons before,” Sam said softly, already standing.  
  
“Yes, but she’s still in a human host.”  
  
“So we should exorcise her,” Dean said gently, placing a tentative hand on her arm, wondering if he needed to reel her back in.  
  
His touch didn’t matter though, what she was doing wasn’t because she was loosing her grasp.  
  
“It wouldn’t work, the body’s too far gone,” she said calmly, holding Ruby’s eyes. “And I’m not giving her the luxury of returning to Hell.”  
  
Dean caught Sam’s eye, both of them wishing there was another way, but both understanding why it must be done.  
  
“Case…”  
  
“I don’t want you boys here for this…please. I told you once Dean that you don’t want to know the things I’ve done.  _You two_  haven’t done it. So please…let me keep at least this one death off your hands,” she said quietly.  
  
Dean just squeezed her arm reassuringly, mouth set in a grim line, before he ushered Sam out the door.  
  
They all buried the body together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silentium, which Casey growls at Ruby, is Latin for "silence." 
> 
> She also calls her a reproba orator which is Latin for "false speaker." Apparently there is no translation for "liar." 
> 
> Again I used this site for both translations: http://www.tranexp.com:2000/Translate/result.shtml


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was trying to be quite as he came through the door, arms laden down with plastic bags full of greasy food.  
  
Casey appeared to be sleeping, curled up on her side on the far bed.  
  
Dean smiled, glancing habitually over to the closed bathroom door. The shower droning on behind the thin wooden barrier, informing him as to Sam’s whereabouts.

The small lamp, was on over in the corner and the muted T.V. cast a eerie soft blue glow over the rest of the room, but overall it was dark and Dean assumed Sam had turned off the bright lights before retreating to his shower to let Casey sleep in peace.  
  
He toed off his muddy boots just inside the doorway, cursing the slow rain that had plagued them for the past week and started to cross the room.  
  
Halfway across the room he managed to spectacularly slam three of his five toes on his left foot into the end of Casey’s bed.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, instantly screwing up his face knowing he had just woken her.  
  
Juggling the food, trying to prevent the impending disaster he saw in his minds eye, all the while hopping on one foot like a lunatic, fumbling between trying to save the food and clutch at his foot while somehow keeping some semblance of balance, he managed to twist and crash onto the end of the bed just in time to see Casey’s slender hands snatch the bags out of mid air before they tumbled into his face.  
  
While he grimaced in pain, foot hitched up high and cradled in his hands, he was vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and Sam storming out in a rush, towel wrapped around his hips.  
  
“What happened…” he stopped abruptly, shock momentarily winning out over the laughter that was threatening to bubble up from his chest at seeing Dean, for all intents and purposes looking like a five-year old with a boo-boo.  
  
Dean heard Casey chuckle behind him and groaned.  
  
He had been shot, stabbed, ripped apart both inside and out and had pretty much died twice and here he was, tears pricking his eyes, holding his toes that he would bet money on being broken, but knowing at the same time he would loose.  
  
“Yeah…your bodies suck,” Casey deadpanned, causing Dean’s brow to furrow as he cracked open his eyes, peering at her upside down from his spot flat on his back on the end of her bed.  
  
She was sitting on her knees above his head and looked at him with a shrug.  
  
“What? It’s your weak shells that can’t take the pain.”  
  
As his face twisted, a sharp comeback on the tip of his tongue she added, “I did it too this morning while you two were sleeping.”  
  
And somehow in the mix of food and pain and awkwardness and Sam’s still half-dressed state, everything crashed down around them and all three of them erupted in laughter so loud, unbidden and downright innocent and childish, that the guests in the next room started pounding on the wall, yelling at them to oh so politely, “shut the fuck up.”  
  
Sam, still snorting and giggling like a fool, returned to the bathroom to dress as Dean struggled to catch his breath before limping, rather exaggeratedly, over to the food and rummaging through, pulling out their respective meals.  
  
Casey sat back against the headboard and smiled.  
  
There were times she still felt lost, times she felt like a turncoat, like she was batting for the wrong team.  
  
And there were still times, times in between Dean’s touches, that left her feeling like she was spiraling out of control and was about to snap, revert to her old ways.  
  
But right now, right in that instant, everything was okay.  
  
Really, they weren’t all that different, demons and humans. Each still loved, hated, fought, saved, killed, cared, had faith.  
  
And yeah, humans might be weak, but these two, the two she sided with, the two she fought beside and for, were not.  
  
And maybe...maybe she was okay with that.


End file.
